Sweet Vibrations
by Ayngel
Summary: Rumble's performance in the 'Cons is abysmal owing to certain "frustrations." He is ordered to rectify this. Meanwhile he worships from afar one yellow minibot/Autobot, who has yet to lose his virginity. Will they get together? **Slash** and pure crack
1. Chapter 1

**== Sweet Vibrations ==  
**

**By Ayngel

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**_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I absolutely positively definitely will make no money out of any stories about Transformers_**

This came about as a result of Artemis1000 and I deciding we felt sorry for Rumble because he never gets laid. And he's such a hilarious little mongrel too! We set out to change that - so here's his "romance" with Bumblebee. *Pure crack* LOL

Set in G1 Series 2.

**_Warnings: Smex, nothing explicit in this chapter but there will be. Adult themes, course language._****_*Slash* gets*sticky*  
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**_**Chapter 1**

Rumble looked miserably at the Decepticon leaders assembled in front of him.

Megatron was glaring, hands on hips, his optics fixed on the cassette like red steel. Meanwhile, Starscream lounged against the console, arms folded, his expression accusatory. Rumble looked in desperation to Soundwave, on the other side of Megatron, but the blue con just stood silently there, staring straight ahead, his face expressionless.

The door opened and the Cat came padding silently in to take her place at Soundwave's side. Even she was against him! Rumble felt so alone.

_"Explain yourself!"_ The silver leader's optics bore into him.

Rumble knew what he was referring to. "Er – it wasn't altogether my fault yer see Megatron," he began, "Y'see, I had to step out for a while an Frenzy was gonna keep watch instead, but then Frenzy had to step out too cos Lazerbeak got caught in the door and then Buzzsaw …"

_"Silence!!"_ roared the Decepticon Leader. "I do not want your pathetic excuses! You let those filthy insecticons just wander into the camp. They could have destroyed us all!"

"Yeah … OK … I know," muttered Rumble, feeling unhappier than ever. He looked at the floor. "I'm – er sorry Megatron."

The silver leader threw his hands in the air and paced towards the back of the control room. "I am my wits end with you Rumble!" he proclaimed. He turned to glare at him again. "Your performance of late has been lamentable! Why only a day before that your little earthquake failed to destroy any Autobots but nearly buried us alive!"

"I know, yeah, I'm sorry …"

"Indeed!" Starscream's voice was smug. "And then there was the incident with the Constructicons! You were told to keep in touch with Scrapper. Next thing we know the whole damned lot of them are about to join the Autobots .."

"And I haven't forgotten that human ruining my clone plan either …" Megatron's optics flared.

"You were no help at all over that Ninja robot …"

"All right, all right! Look I'm sorry! OK?" said Rumble, just as Megatron cast the Seeker a sharp glare. "We'll refrain from mention of that particular incident, Starscream!" he snapped. The seeker scowled. Megatron turned his attention back to the little con.

Bending forward so his face was almost opposite the cassette he growled "What has gotten into you, Rumble?" The cassette just shook his head miserably.

"May I be of some assistance?"

All heads turned to Soundwave. The Cat slunk around his legs and came back next to him. Her tail in the air. Megatron straightened up. The Cat gave a little "_prrrup._"

"Rumble is suffering from a surfeit of conjugation impulses whilst confronted with a deficient supply of connective opportunities; Concentration is proving problematic to maintain; the predicament is causing him _extreme consternation_!" Intoned Soundwave.

A note of irritation swept Megatron's angular face. "Would you mind putting that in _plain Cybertronian!_" he snapped.

Rumble blushed hot with embarrassment. He knew exactly what Soundwave was talking about. "Look Megatron," he began, "ya don't need to …"

_"Let him speak!"_ Thundered Megatron. Shuddering, the cassette was silent.

Megatron turned to the blue con again "You were _saying_, Soundwave?"

"He needs to supply his interconnection apparatus with an adequate receptacle for the dispensation of transmechanical fluid and energy transfer. In other words, Megatron,_ he needs a bit …"_

At that point Starscream laughed out loud. Megatron shot him a furious look. Then he turned back to Rumble, his optics glowing like coals. The little Con wished that a trapdoor would open and he could just vanish into it.

"Is this true Rumble?" the leader demanded.

The cassette dropped his head in shame. Meanwhile, Soundwave was nodding. The Cat watched them keenly.

Megatron could barely contain his exasperation. "Well for pity's sake _find _a _bit_ then Rumble!" he roared, throwing his hands in the air. "How dare you jeopardise the success of the Decepticons by depriving yourself!

"I'm sorry …." Rumble muttered. "It's not as easy as you think!"

"What are you talking about!" bawled Megatron. He began to pace again. "Good Primus," he muttered. "There's enough damned choice in this place. Isn't there? Constructicons, Triplets, Seekers … "

Starscream, who had been smirking silently, suddenly changed his expression. "You have to be joking!" he said, aghast. just as the cassette said: "Cut me a break. Megatron!"

Megatron stopped pacing and looked from one to the other of them. "Why not Seekers?" He roared. And then when they both opened their mouths but no words came out he said: "Well what about the Insecticons? Reservations as I may have about the unscrupulous scoundrel, I've heard Shrapnel's very handy with his antennas!"

Inwardly Rumble cringed. He could not think of anything worse than the arrogant bug creeping slowly into his seams! It was almost as bad as imagining a Seeker doing the same …

The silver leader was looming down near him again, his optics dangerous. "Make a choice, Rumble!" he hissed. "And solve this problem! If you don't find a solution I will be forced to choose for you. _And it may not be pretty!"_

Rumble shuddered afresh. "Yes sir!" he muttered.

Soundwave stepped in again. "I will see to it, Megatron, that he has some counselling on the subject …," he said.

"Good!" snapped the Leader, straightening up. "Sort it, Soundwave! Then hopefully we will see an end to this incompetence." He looked at them. "Dismissed!" he bawled.

The door whooshed open and Soundwave ushered Rumble out, the Cat padding beside them. As they left Rumble heard Starscream say: "I will not have my wingmates denigrated to playmechs for Soundwave's rabble, Megatron! They're far too sensitive!" and Megatron roar: "If I order them to be playmechs, _they will be playmechs, Starscream!"_ Then the door shut and they were alone in the corridor.

Soundwave put his hand on the cassette's shoulder. "Let's have a little chat," he said.

Rumble nodded miserably. He could not let them know the deeper reason why he did not want a Seeker or a Constructicon. Could not even tell Soundwave how there was not one Con at the Decepticon base who didn't pale in comparison to the real object of his desires. The real cause of his _problematic concentration,_ the one for whom desire exploded within to remedy his _deficient supply of connective opportunities_.

Why, even now his mind was drifting to him, less than a day's journey away ….

Soundwave strode off up the corridor, talking to the Cat, who padded beside him. Following behind, Rumble wondered what _his minibot _was doing right now on the Ark. Recharging? Watching human TV? Having a rough and tumble with his cousins? Or maybe he was not with the other Autobozos. Maybe he was off somewhere with his little human friend ... "

A *pang* echoed through Rumble's spark.

He could not help himself! Flipping open a compartment on his arm, his optics went straight to the little holocube he kept concealed in there. He flipped it on and watched, spellbound, as a small bright yellow, compact horned form bearing an Autobot symbol sprang from some rocks and then stopped, brandishing a gun.

Heat swept through Rumble and tingles ran all down his circuits. It was divine! It always had that effect on him - and he could not stop watching it! Giving him this action shot during their first few days here was the only useful thing the Reflector triplets had done!

Soundwave and Ravage turned around and he quickly snapped the compartment shut. They turned back and kept walking, resuming their conversation.

Following, Rumble placed a hand on his arm just above where the cube lurked and let out a sigh._ "Aaah Bumblebee ... ya sweet, sweet little fragger …"_ he murmured to himself. _"What I'd give to get a bit of you!" _

And as he thought of the little Autobot, his circuits throbbed and his interface equipment stirred and his spark was melting.

The Cat turned once again and cast him a knowing smile. Then padded silently on.

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__To be continued- soon!!!_


	2. Chapter 2

**== Sweet Vibrations ==**

**By Ayngel**

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I absolutely positively definitely will make no money out of any stories about Transformers_

Now to Bumblebee!

Author notes: The following becomes self evident, but just to clarify - all Cybertronian sparklings and mechalescents have a cover rivoted over their interface components called the Phase 1 Primary Interface Component Cover. Later, when the mech's programming deems him "ready" to interface, the cover comes off. This normallly happens soon after the coming of age, but for some, it takes longer. Officially, the process is known as "PICC Detachment." More usually, it is simply referred to as "popping."

Still *c-r-a-c-k* :-) Set in G1 Series 2.

_Warnings: Smex, nothing explicit in this chapter but there will be. Adult themes, course language.*Slash* gets*sticky*_

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**Chapter 2**

The day was warm and sultry. The Earth sun burst out from behind the clouds, shining brightly on the group of humans and Autobots assembled in the small park.

Optimus Prime glowed with pride as the important human – a Government representative of sorts – went on about the exemplary behavior of the minibots in rescuing some humans who had got lost in the desert. What a courageous little lot they were, and how pleased he was that he had brought them to Earth! Even though it was really Hound who had found them - and done most of the rescuing - Prime had been adamant that the minibots get some recognition. They were, as he knew, sensitive little critters who developed fierce inferiority complexes far too easily. And when that happened – well, they could make life less easy than it could be.

The Tracker had understood fully, happy to stand aside while his collection of little friends had due honors bestowed. He had, however, turned up for the occasion along with Jazz and Prowl - and Mirage, who was somewhere around - and all of them were now enjoying the warm weather, and the sight of the small ones getting the human attention.

The minibots, however, were less than rapturous. "That darned sun is doin' unspeakable things to my paintwork," growled Gears on a secret frequency. "I wish they'd just dish out those medals so we can get on with it and go home!"

"Yeah!" agreed Windcharger. I'm starving! How long before we get some energon snacks?"

"We didn't do anything anyway!" growled Cliffjumper. "This is all just a excuse for Prime to get more "in" with the humans!"

"It's all a waste of time," sighed Huffer. "The Cons will kill us anyway. We're doomed!"

"Shut up the lot of you!" growled Brawn. But the others knew perfectly well that he was not having a good time either.

Bumblebee said nothing. Vaguely aware of the human talking and the voices of the others, he was doing everything he could to stay focused. For Bumblebee had a problem today which made the petty concerns of his fellow minibots pale into insignificance. Today was the day - of all days – oh the shame of it - that his Phase 1 Primary Interface Component Cover had chosen to start working loose. Some time before the day was out, the Minibot was going to join the ranks of his fully fledged and interface ready companions. In other words – he was going to "pop."

Feeling heat rising inside – and knowing it had virtually nothing to do with the Earth sun - Bee thought of the conversation with Ratchet soon after they arrived. "Sure, you're a little younger than most of the mechs here, but you're well and truly of age. I woulda thought youdda _popped_ by now!" he had said, his usual level of tact radiating forth. "I guess you're just a late developer. Don't worry - You'll pop eventually! " Then he'd poked and prodded at the cover. "Thing's pretty firmly riveted down there though – I doubt if you'll be _popping_ for a while!"

Bumblebee had barely hidden his disappointment. He didn't want to be an _unpopped_ mech! Especially an _unpopped_ minibot! He wanted to swagger around like the others with a nice big flashy codpiece to accommodate his new fully developed interface components – the sort they made for you specially to replace the small, boring Phase 1 cover. He wanted other mechs to eye it off enviously, and wonder what was underneath. He wanted to brag about it – and to join in the dirty conversations in the rec room – not only be included as a spectator when they were too drunk to remember he was still there.

"Hey," Ratchet had said. "Enjoy life! It's a lot more complicated once you've _popped. Trust me!"_

Bumblebee hadn't cared that it was more complicated. He just wanted an end to being treated like a sparkling, to being regarded as nothing more than a 'happy little chappie!' He wanted to know what it was to seethe with desire for others, and have them seethe with desire for him; wanted to fully understand what all those terms– _'facing, fragging, fucking, spiking, valving, plugging, overloading, multi overloading ... Etcetera –_ the list went on – really meant. For whilst he did, of course, know technically what an interface entailed, he suspected there was very much more to it, and longed to know what. Especially when the mere saying of those words, which evidently titillated his peers beyond all reason, raised not a ripple in his own circuits.

Until today! Now, at the mere thought of such terms, a hot flush swept through the minibot and he felt his components – hitherto small and sheathed behind the Cover – swell and surge with readiness.

And he should have been delighted._ But why, oh why, did it have to be today?_

As yet another human took the podium and started expounding minibot virtues, Bumblebee gave an agonized inward groan. He couldn't even stop _thinking_ about those terms now – and every time he did, things happened! It wasn't just that his temperature soared. Energon rushed around his conduits, especially those which traveled on a direct route to the Cover and his components. Behind it, he could feel parts moving around, as though bits which had been hidden deep inside for aeons now struggled to find a way out. Meanwhile, an excited buzz echoed through his circuits, so loud within Bee's audials that he half expected a halt to be called to the proceedings and one of the humans to ask what the din was.

The human on the podium said something funny and everybody laughed. Nearby, Jazz shifted his stance and said something to Prowl. Bumblebee noticed the firmness of Jazz's thighs, the subtle movement of his pelvis, and another furious heatwave swept through him. This time, the Cover gave a little rattle, and - with a twinge of alarm - he felt rivets loosen. It wasn't just those terms which were setting him off! Suddenly, the mechs he'd worked with for Aeons had taken on a whole new perspective. Prowl moved this time, and now Bee imagined he felt something straining against the Cover and with a mixture of excitement and horror, realized it was his newly charged spike. Shuttering his optics, he willed himself to be calm and to not think smexy black and white or doorwinged type thoughts.

But it was almost impossible! His circuits shuddered afresh at the memory of the Special Ops team meeting that morning. It had been agonizing! Never before had he been so aware of Jazz 's intense _black and whiteness,_ his perfectly proportioned body, the way he moved, the bulge which covered his interface panel. Then there was Prowl, all huge and well built - with an even bigger bulge - door wings stiffening and unstiffening sporadically. Bee had never even noticed how exciting that was! His circuits had burned – literally – and he'd been unable to tear his optics away.

As for Mirage – when his slender form had oozed through the door and Bee had caught sight of the alluring breast plate, the well proportioned thighs, had smelt the high quality alloys, that had been it! The minibot had beaten a hasty retreat, excusing himself and standing in the corridor outside and taking in great intakes. He'd told them he thought he'd had too much high grade last night. They probably didn't buy it – Primus, he didn't even drink! But it had got him off the hook. And he had managed to settle his systems down –_ for then._

Now, Bee wished that he had _popped_ this morning. Right there in front of them at the meeting! Then he could have gone to Ratchet and said - triumphantly - "it's happened" and asked what to do next. Even the medic's likely callous response would have been better than this – _situation!_ Unshuttering his optics, he caught a movement in the front row of humans and, looking across, saw Spike beaming happily at him. The human gave a little wave. Ah - that was what he could do – concentrate on the humans! Relieved that at least his friend was unaware of his predicament, the yellow minibot tried to smile back. But as Cliffjumper shifted beside him and he heard a grumbling pass between his minibot cousins again, he felt everything boil up with renewed urgency. Primus, even his relations were affecting him!

The sun burned and the minibots complained and the humans shifted in their seats. Then, suddenly, there was a change in the proceedings. The human on the podium stepped down and took his place among the others, and all the humans stood up – all except Spike's friend Chip, the one who couldn't because he was in a wheelchair. Prime's large form took the podium, and his voice boomed forth. "We thank you Mr Senator for your kind words," he said. "Know that they mean much and will be appreciated by all Autobots, most of all our fine young warriors here ..." Cliffjumper and Huffer preened themselves. " Did you know that that there minibots come from Gard Nordic, a harsh place near the polar caps of Cybertron. Now I can tell you a little story ..."

Gears groaned. "Get on with it!" he growled.

"My processing chamber – it thinks my main line's been cut!" wailed Windy

Brawn said nothing, but let out a deep sigh.

And Bumblebee despaired! Prowl's wings twitched and a sizzling sensation zapped all through him. His spike gave an almighty throb, the Cover shuddering dangerously.

"... the Minibots have made an invaluable contribution to our campaign here," Prime was concluding. And it gives me great pleasure to present to them today the gold medals kindly donated by the people of Oregon .." He paused. "Prowl , if you please ...?"

Striding forward, the black and white Datsun picked up a large collection of bright objects on ribbons from a table near the podium and slung them over his arm. Prime beamed. Bumblebee gasped, burning up like a furnace, everything throbbing. A hush fell over the crowd. Prowl stepped up on the podium, his powerful body flexing. Tall and magnificent, his door wings spread proudly, he turned his face – now the most handsome face Bee had ever seen – to the minibots. "Gears! Please step forward!" he said. Energon seemed to rush from Bee's head and for a moment he very nearly passed out.

"About bloody time!" muttered the little red mech. He strutted up to the podium. Prowl reached over and dropped the medal over his head so that it fell around his neck. There was a deafening applause. "Thank you, thank you!" said the little red mech, nodding curtly at the humans. "Windcharger?" said Prowl.

Later, Bumblebee always thought it was the way the cords in Prowl's neck and shoulders moved and his door wings glinted in the sun that did it. To his horror, his circuits began to spark across the synapses and the whole Panel Cover start to vibrate, the metal literally warping over his swollen, emerging components. Heat swirled and he felt energon vapour burst out on to his surfaces as a rattling sound erupted in his groin.

Embarrassed beyond all reason and not even wanting to imagine what might happen next, Bee cast a wild glance around. Amazingly, nobody seemed to have noticed! Everyone was watching Windy! Just then, applause broke out again, drowning the rattles, and humans and bots smiled around at each other. Bumblebee made a last attempt at control, struggling to appear as if nothing was amiss. To his relief, the vibrations died down. Spike gave him another wave and Chip beamed up from the wheelchair. His face set in a grim mask of agony masquerading as a smile, Bee waved back.

The calmness did not last long. "Come forward - Cliffjumper!" Bee heard Prowl say and there was more applause as his red cousin strode importantly to the podium. The rattling started again and it felt as if the Cover rivets were barely holding it in place. And it was then, as his core temperature soared way beyond acceptable limits and the vibrations reached a crescendo, that it happened.

Prowl went to take the medal from his arm to give to the minibot, but he dropped it, his finger unaccustomed to the slippery ribbon. Jazz moved swifly across to pick up the medal, his movements fluid and sensuous. Then he was bending over, and his aft and the backs of his thighs were directly in line with Bumblebee's line of vision. What with Prowl gleaming in the background and Jazz just being _in that position_ it was all just too much, the Minibot felt as though he exploded and a bolt of pure energy fired through his circuits. There was a loud bang and the entire Phase 1 Primary Interface Component Cover came rocketing off in all its glory.

It happened so fast that nobody had time to do anything. The Cover smashed into the stony ground at speed, bounced, and spun through the air like a Frisbee. It headed straight for the wheelchair, sliced across the top of Chip Chase's head and careered into the crowd behind. The humans screamed and scattered. Chip gave a stifled cry and clutched at the place where it had struck. When he took his hand away, there was blood on his fingers. The computer genius took one look and passed out in the wheelchair.

There was uproar. A throng of humans converged on Chip, whilst others were fleeing, still screaming. Somebody was yelling about an ambulance. Prime was talking frantically with the Senator and the other officials and then somebody had a megaphone and was yelling "ladies and gentlemen please! There is no cause for alarm! Please keep your seats!" But the terrified flesh creatures continued to scramble away, falling over one another and knocking chairs flying as they did so. Prowl said something to Jazz before they both transformed and took off in pursuit.

Bee stood there with the rest of the minibots, who gazed around at the fleeing humans, mystified and aghast. He could barely take in what was happening. All feelings of arousal had dissipated like a cloud of gas, and, instead, a sensation of sharp, painful rawness erupted where the cover had been, and he was aware, to his horror, of components hanging out. Ashamed beyond imagining, he threw his hands over them. He had never felt so - exposed - in his life! Then he became aware of Brawn, hands on hips, glaring at him furiously and of the wide open mouths of his other cousins.

As the park emptied, there were sirens and an ambulance – a real human one, not Ratchet – came flying towards them with Jazz and Prowl to either side. The Autobots transformed and some men in white clothes leapt from the ambulance and ran towards the remaining small crowd. The man with the megaphone yelled some more, and the humans moved back. It was then that Bee caught sight of Spike's horrified face bent over Chip, and that was so much worse than anything else that had happened so far.

Then he heard the sound of suppressed laughter. Cliffjumper had gotten over his shock and had started to titter and, to Bee's horror, Huffer and Windy's faces were breaking up. They were pointing at his hands over where his cover had been and laughing! Meanwhile, Gears - his gold medal gleaming - looked furious and Brawn, absolutely livid. "Minibots, transform and prepare to roll out!" Brawn thundered. But his other cousins were too engulfed in mirth. CJ fell sideways into Windy and they both fell on the ground, laughing hysterically.

Bee despaired, unable to believe that his cousins, his kith and kin, could be so – _sparkless._ His uncovered components were now throbbing wildly in pain and he did not even know if he could walk, let alone transform. Besides, he needed his hands free to transform and that would – expose him! In front of the humans! Again! The shame of it!

He caught sight of Brawn's furious face once more and opened his mouth to convey his immobile status, but no words came out. Over by the podium, he could hear Prime still trying to reassure the Senator, joined now by Jazz and Prowl. Glancing across, he saw that a collection of human heads were turned in his direction and that Chip was being loaded into the ambulance on a trolley, with Spike close beside.

At that moment, despite his pain and the horrendousness of the situation, all Bumblebee could think of was to get across to Spike. But before he could put this into operation, he felt himself grabbed from behind and hauled backwards, and then the scene went hazy and he knew he was under Mirage's electro disruptive shield.

"Come here!" The Spy hissed. "And stand still!" Bee felt himself in a vice grip. The aroma of superior alloys surrounded him, which now did nothing for him but fill him with dread as to what their owner might do. Then the grip relaxed and he felt his hands getting pulled away from his newly emerged components, and something being clipped on to his metal where the cover had been. All at once, the raw sensations dulled. "What are you doing?" he gasped.

"It's a temporary codpiece. It will tide you over," said Mirage, his voice steady. "Now come – we need to get out of here. Walk – slowly!" And Bee felt a firm hand on his arm and allowed himself to be led away, feeling that that strange sensation of mechs and humans alike looking straight through him – as he always had when subjected to this situation – but unable to take in anything this time but his terrible shame and the dull throb in his components.

"I take it you didn't intend to present in - that condition?" Mirage said when they had left the city limits behind and were headed back to the Ark in their alt modes, no longer invisible and Bumblebee having undertaken the most uncomfortable transformation of his life. The spy sounded faintly amused. "You haven't made Prime and Jazz very happy," he said. "They've been working on this human relations thing for ever. And Gears and Brawn are ready to permanently deactivate you."

Bee glowed hot with embarrassment, his components - now hidden in a new alt sheath - still aching uncomfortably. "I didn't know it was so close," he said miserably. "Ratchet said it wouldn't – happen for a while."

Mirage snorted. "Blasted cowboy medic wouldn't know a loose panel from a broken knee joint!" he muttered.

Bee said nothing. He was already dreading the forthcoming attendance with the medic. He was bound to get a dressing down. And it was probably justified – seeing as how he should have seen him when the symptoms started this morning. He followed the racer forlornly across the desert. All he wanted to do was curl up somewhere and disappear. Right then, he couldn't have cared if he never made it into the Ark again – for he was certain by now the others would know all about what had just happened and were consumed by the hilarity of the episode and his circuits shuddered. He thought of what the Twins would make of today and winced. Worse, he could never face Spike again.

Even worse, there burned another horrible truth. None of them would ever want to interface with him now! He was worse than what he had been before – worse than something akin to a sparkling. He was a laughing stock! It was just as well that the lustful sensations of earlier had so well and truly gone. His 'facing career was over before it had started!

Suddenly overwhelmed and not caring if it annoyed Mirage, Bumblebee stopped rolling and performed another painful transformation. Then he sank down on the ground and started to cry, filled with anguish, and unable to imagine a more disastrous scenario. Aeons of hard work and expectations seemed to be dissipating before his optics. He might as well go back to Cybertron! In fact, later on he would go and see Prime and ask to do that. Yes, he would! If they hadn't decided to get rid of him there already. Dimly, he was aware of Mirage pulling up ahead of him and doing a one eighty degree turn.

"Bumblebee!" He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Pull yourself together! This isn't the end of the Universe! "

"Yes it is!" wailed the minibot.

"We can't afford to hang around here!" Mirage's voice was firm but gentle. "I've just had word of Decepticon activity"

"I don't care!" bawled Bumblebee. "I'll never be able to look anyone in the optic again! The Cons might as well just take me! Why don't you just go and and leave me here and let them take me? You don't care anyway!"

"Bumblebee! Stop this melodrama!" The voice took on a sharper edge, and he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Bumblebee looked up and into the spy's piercing blue optics. "Listen to me!" Mirage said. "Jazz has obtained the footage from the incident. It won't go on TV, and the humans were all too busy looking at Cliffjumper getting his medal to notice where that – _cover_ – came from. I know, I was watching them! Now take some deep intakes!"

Complying, Bee felt a little better. "Now think about it!" said Mirage. "Your cousins won't say anything – it will bring shame on your clan. Jazz, Prowl and I are sworn sworn to secrecy and Prime has told the humans that what fell off you was a piece of rogue metal which must have attached to sombody during an attack by the Decepticons. The human on wheels is going to be all right and I gather the other humans are more disappointed than anything that they didn't see you get your medal. So stop fretting!"

Bee looked at him, relief flooding his systems, but unable to completely believe it. "But my – components!" he whispered. "The humans saw it all ..."

"Mirage pulled away from him. "Don't be silly!" He said. "As if humans know what those are! It's not like they have anything similar themselves!" Bumblebee stared at him. He thought of that day Spike went swimming at the dam and forgot his trunks and did not entirely agree. But he suddenly felt so much better that he was not inclined to argue.

Mirage looked him up and down and smiled. "We can discuss other aspects of your new state later, if you wish," he said. "For now - we have to go!"

Neither of them saw Lazerbeak, delighted by the footage just obtained from the presentation but less impressed by this emotional scene in the desert – unfold her wings and rise silently, heading in the direction of the Decepticon base, clucking happily to herself as she went.

_I had to make it all right for poor Bee after that terrible ordeal. next: how do the Bots deal with Bumblebee? Plus - lovesick Rumble. LOL_


	3. Chapter 3

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

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I was _sooo_ happy with the response to the first couple of chapters of this. I'm glad so many people laughed – I certainly laughed writing it. Thanks to everyone who listed and alerted and I am really, really appreciative of everyone who reviewed. I think I got back to most people. If not, know that I was really grateful for your comments.

In this next chapter, thanks to Artemis1000 for reminding me that Rumble can write poetry: Quote, G1: "If upon Decepticon turf you happen to tumble, look out robot, cos here comes Rumble!" Such eloquence! And he really is good at it!

Only thing you really need to know about this is that a newly "popped mech" is a much sought after entity. Everyone clamors to be the first … even the most pure minded 'Bots ...

_Warnings: Adult themes, course language, implied slash._

**Chapter 3**

**On the Ark ...**

"Well!" Optimus Prime smiled kindly around him. "I think that just about concludes our business for today, Officers! Thank you for your time!"

A shaft of light shone through the roof of the Ark from the hole cut in the rock above, illuminating the small room in which the elite group sat at the round table. They had just finished planning the strategy for the escort of a cargo of missiles to northern Canada for the US army, and the plans were still spread before them. They would not have to be put into operation until next week, something for which – after the fiasco at the presentation - Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, was exceedingly grateful.

The large red and blue mech stood up now, smiling amiably. Beside him, Ironhide, Prowl and Jazz scraped their chairs back and rose also, gathering datapads and chattering about ways of maintaining core heat in subzero temperatures. There was much to be done, but all three intended to retire now for a few well earned cubes of high grade in the rec room. They were just about to leave when a well spoken voice sounded from the table: "Er – just a moment ..." All heads turned to look at the only officer still seated. "Is there not one other small matter?" Mirage said, leaning back in his chair.

They were all silent. Mirage addressed the Autobot leader. "Look, I know this is not your favourite subject, Prime," he said. "But we do need to discuss protocols regarding Bumblebee's _"popping"_ do we not?"

A most awkward look came over Optimus Prime. His mask turned a faint shade of purple. "Oh – er –yes!" he muttered, "Most remiss of me ..." he avoided looking directly at the officers, doing his best not to notice the tetchiness which had appeared on Ironhide's face and, worse than that, the look of excited curiosity on Jazz's and the sudden gleam in Prowl's optics.

They were all looking at him. "Er – yes – errmmm ... right!" he said, aware especially of Mirage's optics, an intense and inescapable blue. "Errrrr ... ummm ..." Spark sinking, he felt compelled to look at the spy, who raised an optic ridge. With a resigned sigh, Prime moved back to the table, lowering his large bulk into its former repository. He managed a smile. "How is our favourite junior special ops team member?" he said.

Rearranging their chairs, the others sat down again too, Prowl and Jazz with an eager curiosity. Prime shifted in his seat. He appreciated the spy's services, but if only he were a little less - _meticulous._ He'd hoped to avoid this. The subject brought back uncomfortable memories of his own _"popping."_

Prime thought of what his troops would say if they knew about the furious session with the mafioso triple changer and shuddered, glad it was so long ago. It could be disastrous if a "pep talk" to the minibot was on the agenda.

Mirage gave them each an amiable look in turn. "Bumblebee is doing all right," he said. "Gradually getting over the little – _episode."_ A small, high pitched noise emanated from Jazz. Both Prime and Ironhide cast a stern look in his direction, and Prowl frowned. Mirage ignored it. "He wanted me to convey his gratitude to you all for being so – circumspect – about it all!" he said.

Prime relaxed. Hopefully, the minibot had now relieved his passions and this was simply about managing whoever he had chosen as his _first._ "This is - er- good news, Mirage," he said. "Bumblebee is a brave soldier! Nevertheless, this can't have been – _easy ..."_ he looked around at the other three, all silent and focused on him now. "The point, however, is ..." the mask turned a shade deeper. "The_ thing_ is ...," he looked around hopefully for help which was not forthcoming. "Has it ... does he ...?" Prowl and Jazz leaned a little closer. "What I mean is ..." Ironhide folded his arms, frowning. "Has he ... er ... you know ...?"

Mirage raised an optic ridge: "Done it yet?"

They all relaxed. _"Precisely!_" said Prime.

Mirage looked at the assembled officers. Prime still looked embarrassed and Ironhide was clearly less than amused at having to even consider this, but Jazz's face was alight and Prowl's optics burned a deep indigo. An air of tense expectation came over them. The spy could not help but be a little disappointed at their lack of subtlety. He took a moment to answer, taking a mildly sadistic pleasure in the agony of their suspense.

"No," he said eventually, noting that the look on Jazz's face turned to one of pure glee whilst Prowl's became positively predatory. "He is adjusting to the permanent cover Wheeljack has fitted and his conjugal program is settling itself down." He smiled at Prime. "You know how it is – there's' an intense rush before the codpiece blows and then after that it takes a little while for the systems to reset."

Prime nodded. His processing chamber churned a little. Surely Mirage couldn't know about Octane. Could he? "Yes, indeed, Mirage," he said, letting out a false sounding laugh. The others shifted and smiled around the table. "But soon," Mirage went on, "_as you well know Prime,_ the urges will return with renewed intensity and Bumblebee will feel an uncontrollable need to - _do it_ - as you say!" The Autobot leader winced. His worst fears were being confirmed.

"Any idea how long that will be?" Prowl tried to sound matter of fact, but he said it too fast. Beside him, Jazz practically bounced in his seat. Only Ironhide, his optics fixed and now disapproving, appeared completely unmoved by the prospect.

"Hmmmn ..." Mirage gave them a long, blue look, his chin in his hand. "Not too long I would think. I would estimate maybe – forty eight hours?"

There was a soft rustling from the mechs. Prowl and Jazz exclaimed glances. A wicked grin spread across Jazz's face. "Cool!" he said. It was matched by the sudden flare in the tactician's optics. "Mmmnn - yeah!" he growled, long and low. Ironhide's frown deepened.

Prime felt flustered. It wasn't just the revelations of his own salubrious beginnings. What would his brother, the esteemed leader of the Decepticons, say if he knew that two of his highest ranking staff were beside themselves at the prospect of a newly_ popped_ minibot? Worse, what would the humans think? What about Bumblebee's friend, their most valuable source of Earth information? The leader decided to take control. "Autobots!" he said. "It is absolutely essential that we are professional and that we adopt a management strategy in relation to this matter!"

Heads nodded. "As Autobot tactician, I completely agree!" Prowl failed somewhat in his attempt to sound formal.

Mirage smiled amiably. "My thoughts too, Prowl!" he said.

Well, hopefully, Prime thought, Mirage would suggest something do-able and not disgraceful. This was usually the case – although the spy's ideas were not always the most popular with his fellow officers. He_ ought_ to solve this! After all, he had brought the subject up! Prime cleared his throat. "Er - did you have anything - _specific_ - in mind, Mirage?" However quirky it was, Prime decided, he would support it. _Anything_ to get this sorted!

"Well ..." the spy looked around them, "as you know, Bumblebee will require some assistance ..." Prime noted with dismay that the eagerness on Jazz and Prowl's faces magnified. Prowl seemed to have abandoned attempts at hiding his desires. "However, "Mirage went on, "whoever provides this service will need to be - experienced in matters such as this. ..." He paused, smiling around the table. Prime's distress deepened at the sight of Jazz and Prowls' glossas virtually hanging out. Mirage turned to him. "As you know," he said, "Towers mechs excel in this area!"

Prime was a little surprised. But then, he supposed they would. Perhaps. Well who knew what they'd gotten up to behind the esteemed walls of upper crust wealth and power? It didn't matter. He nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes. Good!'

Mirage smiled again, evidently pleased. "That is precisely why Bumblebee's assistant ought to be ..." he looked around the table once more, _"Me!"_

Indignation erupted immediately. "That ain't fair man!" cried Jazz. "It's hardly within the regulations!" retorted Prowl, whilst Ironhide muttered. "Outrageous!" Then, to Prime's further dismay, a barrage of angry questions were directed at the spy.

"Ain't it enough you already get your pick of mechs here?" accused Jazz.

"What's wrong with a prototype beta-one law enforcer showing him the ropes?" said Prowl.

"He needs a straightforward demonstration not some - kinky - caper!" Ironhide retorted. "Yes!" Prowl agreed. "Especially some highfalutin _kinky_ Towers caper!" Jazz nodded and they both glared at Mirage.

"What you're suggesting, Mirage, is an absolute abuse of position!" said Ironhide. His optics narrowed. "What's wrong with him being made to control himself until his commanding officer finds him a suitable match?" They all looked at Prime.

Prime said nothing. He guessed he'd been wrong about Mirage. Why did he always have to sort these matters out for them? Did commanding the Ark have to be like directing a human soap opera?

Perhaps, he thought, he should ask one of Bumblebee's cousin minibots to take care of the situation. Surely it was more appropriate that they looked after their own kind? Of course, there were those taboos of theirs but surely a stern order requiring an act in the name of the Autobot cause would soon overcome those? Yes, that would remove things from this realm altogether. That was definitely the best solution!

Drawing himself up, Prime forced a stern expression to come on to his own features, knowing it made him look just a tiny bit like his brother. "Now Mirage," he said, furrowing his optic ridges. "Ironhide does have a point. There are protocols to be observed!" He looked at them each in turn. "For one thing," he said, "it is simply not within those rules for _any_ officer to engage in these sorts of activities with a newly - er - uncovered mech ..." Jazz opened his mouth to protest but Prime went on: "... especially when that mech is a junior officer!" He turned back to Mirage again. "Secondly there is the time honoured tradition of a newly uncovered mech picking his first – er – experience, for himself. I am disappointed that a Towers mech would flaunt that rule, Mirage, it would be most ..."

"No, no, no!" Mirage laughed. "You've all got it wrong!" They were silent, their optics upon him once more. "I don't intend actually _providing_ his first experience," he laughed again, "I've got quite enough on my plate for that!" At this, Ironhide grunted with renewed disapproval and Prowl stiffened awkwardly. "My intention is to provide him with the best possible advice as to who his first – encounter – should be!"

Prime thought of the minibots again. An image of the expression on Gears' face when the "order" was made sprung into his awareness. It wasn't pleasant. Had Mirage not already made himself far from popular - some 'involvement' with Clliffjumper which resulted in that insecticon fiasco? Primus forbid_ that_ episode coming up again.

But he took in Mirage's words and relaxed inside. Surely this would be all right! Even for Gears.

There was a silence, then he beamed, relieved. "Ho ho!" he chuckled. "Well of course, Mirage! I should have known. It was most remiss of me to jump to such rash conclusions. Please accept my apology."

Mirage smiled. "Accepted!" he said.

But the others were not so happy. "Now wait a minute!" Jazz could not contain himself. "That ain't fair either!" he burst out. "Everyone knows Bee's gonna be so desperate when he gets the urge he's gonna pick the first mech standing in fronta him. And if you happen to be right there that's gonna just happen to be you, ain't it Raj?"

Prowl and Ironhide made noises of agreement. "And I see no reason why you would be able to resist a newly popped mech any more than the rest of us!" Prowl said, and Ironhide nodded.

"Well Mirage?" said Prime, wearily. Unfortunately, they did have a point.

Mirage laughed again. "You are not aware of certain facts!" he said. "For one thing, even though Alphamechs such as myself had the same desires as any other Cybertronian we are programmed to resist mechanisms of an – er – lesser status." The other three officers bristled and Prime rested his face on his hand and shuttered his optics. Not the spy's controversial social standing on top of this!

Mirage continued, unabashed. "It simply is_ not cricket_ for me to risk conjugation and possibly even replication with a mechanism who would inevitably be – _unsuitable,"_ he said. "Furthermore ..." he ignored the now outward indignation evident, "... my special Trion training wherein I learnt the art of espionage provided special intensive instruction in this area!"

There was a silence. Prime thanked Primus for the ministrations of the Trion Academy. It was, indeed, difficult to argue with that particular logic. It usefully eclipsed the rest. Deciding this was the opportunity he had been waiting for, and that there would be no more argument, he smiled around the table. "Well that's settled then!" he said. "Now – I think this time we can truly call this meeting dismissed!"

Wasting no time, he rose again and this time made a hasty departure, ignoring the sudden sullen silence but noting the quietly pleased expression of the spy. His officers knew when enough was enough and he asserted his authority. The Bumblebee business would be dealt with – somehow.

* * *

**At the Decepticon Base ...**

On his uncomfortably narrow berth in the miserable little subterranean chamber he shared with Frenzy, Rumble tossed and turned, unable to recharge. Compact little yellow forms infused his processor and his circuits burned with longing. His intakes sighed, his spark thudding, heavy in his chest.

The cassette opened his optics, unvisored in the dim light, and watched, mournfully, as brightly coloured fish zoomed to and fro past the portal. He thought, painfully, of the dressing down from the leaders. They just didn't understand! Sure, his last time had been a while back – some time back on Cybertron, long before they came to Earth. But what he was going through was so much more than a desire to romp in the tailings, definitely more than just a need to stick connectors here and there with some half afted moron.

Rumble's intakes exhaled mournfully again. This thing was - _tender._ It was –_ beautiful,_ Primusdamnit. _Magnificent!_ And so agonisingly, exquisitely painful! There was no doubt in Rumble's processor – absolutely no question in the great scheme of Primus only known things in the Universe - he was in love. There was no other explanation! It was_ meant to be._ And the likes of Starscream could stick it up their afterburners.

Rumble shuttered his optics. The conversation with Soundwave still burned in his processor. Not that his creator had really gotten a word in edgeways:

"No I don't need yer help!" he'd said at the outset, as the blue mech opened his mouth. "I heard what Megatron said ... it's serious, OK? I_ know_ its serious!"

Soundwave had closed his mouth, and then opened it again. Rumble had been ready. "No I don't need you to do a mind probe and find out who's having the dirtiest thoughts about me on the base!" he'd said, pacing dramatically up and down. "An' I heard about Bonecrusher lasting for three cycles in a row but he ain't my type – OK?"

Soundwave had made a deep booming noise, but Rumble had cut him off again. "Look - I know the Seekers have got big doodahs ..." he'd said. "Yeah! An' I know how Thrust an' Ramjet got their names!" The red optics regarded him seriously. "I know everything you're gonna say about everyone, Sounders! Now cut me a break will ya!"

The blue telepath had simply nodded. _"Acknowledged, Rumble! As you wish!"_

Relief had swept through the cassette. "Look - Soundwave - I've got a mech in mind ... and I can handle it. OK?"

_"Confirm. As you wish."_ And then his creator had simply turned and stridden away, the Cat still smirking as she padded beside him.

Rumble had watched them depart. Then he had rushed straight to the quarters and flung himself down in an agony of wanting and despair.

Now he turned over again, thankful beyond all reason that the cassettes, alone of all the Decepticons on the base, could block Soundwave's mind reading function. Of course, Cons fragging bots was hardly an unknown, but there was a certain risk factor involved – it was called _Megatron's Extreme Disapproval._ It had not escaped Rumble that this was one possibility the silver leader had decidedly omitted to mention, and the likely consequences of such indulgence were far from appealing. Yet, the cassette allowed himself a moment of optimism, there had to be a way.

Rumble looked across at the cupboard in which he had locked the holocube. His whole being ached to get it out and look at the image again, but he gritted his dental plates and resisted. He needed to think up a strategy. Some way, that when next they met on the battlefield he could convey to his beloved the depth of his passion. And he needed for his processor to be clear, and it could not be clear once he had flicked the switch which revealed the divine little form.

The cassetticon let out another deep and agonized sigh, unshuttering and reshuttering his optics._ "Ah Bumblebee," he murmured, turning over. "Bumblebee, Bumblebee, you really are the mech for me ..."_

Rumble froze halfway through turning over. And suddenly it was as though the universe lit up! He sat bolt upright. Of course: _Poetry!_ He could do poetry! None of the other Decepticons did it, or would even bother trying, but he came out with quite natty bits of rhyme sometimes. And even though the others usually laughed and sneered, the Cat had told him she was secretly impressed and even Megatron had complimented him once. What a perfect and unique way to impress his true love!

Swinging his legs over the side of the berth, his spark suddenly singing, Rumble tried to recall whether he had ever heard any of the Autobots come out with poetry. He could not think of any instances. Somehow the thought of Optimus Prime, or that stuffed fronted tactician, or that old codger Ironhide, or that miserable old medic doing so seemed highly unlikely. And as for those maniac twins – well, that was even more improbable than Starscream or Scrapper or Shrapnel doing it!

No, this would be a first! He would woo the minibot with sparkfelt verse; yell it out, when the Autobots attacked them, or something. And then ...

Well things would just work out after that, wouldn't they?

Feeling a sudden surge of delighted enthusiasm, Rumble leapt from the berth and moving to the computer console, grabbed a datapad and sat down, staring at the fish circulating in the dim light outside through the dark portal.

He closed his optics and thought for a moment, and then wrote:

_"Ode to Bumblebee, the sweetest little mech I've ever set optics on."_ Then, after a few astroseconds more of deeply creative thought, he wrote:

_The way you gleam in the bright Earth sun,_

_And grab your shiny Autobot gun,_

_You and me could really have some fun!_

Oh Yeah! Rumble was happy, now. A smile spread across his face. That sounded all right! Bee would certainly get the gist. He would appreciate it! Rumble knew it. Still, it could still be a bit more romantic, he supposed ...

_When I look at you, my circuits, sizzle_

_You make my facing gear fizzle ..._

Rumble looked at the words and thought about them. No, no! That wouldn't do at all! It was too – crude. This was Bumblebee he was talking about here! Not some piece of slag from the smelting pits.

He crossed it out, and wrote:

_When I see you there in the middle of fights,_

_My brain goes fuzzy and my spark ignites!_

He paused for a moment and thought blissfully of the minibot. The words were true, but not dirty. That was the trick, obviously! To say it exactly as he thought it, but to not think of the nether regions. Greatly encouraged, Rumble thought again. He should say something about particular components of the minibot, he thought. There was instant movement beneath his interface panel. No, he reminded himself – not those parts. Other bits – arms, legs, - eyes. Yes! A sudden wave of inspiration swept through him and he wrote:

_Your optics shine out of your head so blue,_

_They make my circuitry go all like goo,_

_Your cute little smexy yellow hide,_

_Makes me wanna blow up inside!_

Rumble read the lines back again. By Primus! He was powering now! And it wasn't bad - not bad at all! That last expressed it perfectly how he wanted! He thought of the yellow form again and a buzz ran around his circuits and his spark panged. There was no doubt about the next lines. Rumble wrote:

_Cos though I'm a ruthless and fearless con,_

_Bee you really turn me on,_

_An I wanna be with you so bad,_

_I'd even risk Megatron getting mad!_

Well he would! He thought of the silver leader again and a momentary shudder ran through his frame, but then his spark burned with a new resolve and determination. Now, all this needed was an sparkrending appeal to Bee. An indication of the worthlessness of his life and how much better it would be with the minibot in it. Like – say it all in a nutshell. That was the expression, he was sure, even though Primus on his fraggin throne knew what a nutshell was.

He thought again and then, proudly wrote the final couplets:

_So think of me, my darlin' Bumble_

_As through the darkness of the Decepticon base I stumble_

_Thoughts of you through my processor tumble_

_I'm here forever! Your adorer - Rumble!_

Rumble could hardly believe himself. That last bit was extreme, granted, but it was so – _supereloquent!_

Putting down the pad and writer he sighed, leaning back in his chair and watching the sea creatures flit to and fro through the murky water outside the portal and feeling suddenly tired. Well - it was_ tiring,_ this creativity stuff! But the cassette was happy. It was _sooo_ worth it! Heck! In a little while, after a spot of recharge, he might even churn out a bit more. Then all he had to do was get it across.

The very next time they attacked the Autobots, he was finding an opportunity.

And afterwards, Bumblebee would never doubt him again.

* * *

To be continued ...


	4. Chapter 4

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

* * *

It seems like forever that I updated this fic, but I sincerely thank all who continued to read it and list, write reviews etc whilst I was off doing other things.

I'll try and make it move at a little faster pace from now on!

**NB:** I have changed the end of Chapter 3 a little so that it fits with this chapter.

_Warnings: Adult themes, course language, implied slash._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Hands on hips, Bumblebee stood before the mirror in his room, lowering his optics to admire once again his impressive new _physique._

Not one usually given to vanity, the minibot was, nevertheless, extremely pleased with himself. The shiny black codpiece bulged outward, large and wonderfully impossible to ignore. With smug satisfaction, he opened his legs in a firm stance and thrust his hips forward. The result was most impressive! Squeeing inwardly, he turned sideways and viewed himself in profile. A satisfying bulge jutted forth.

Oh how much better things were than a few days ago! Already his secret conveyance into the mebay, the servicing of his 'equipment,' and Ratchet's stern face as the codpiece was welded into place were becoming a distant memory. And as for Ratchet's constant growling at Wheeljack as news of his 'condition' spread around the Ark – well Bee could actually laugh about it now:

"Whadya mean, Sideswipe strained his primary transformation ligament? Nothin' wrong with the thing last time I saw it!. No Sunstreaker's audios don't need a tuneup! The only tuneup they're gonna get is me yellin' in them to get the hell away from here. What? Powerglide? You can tell that pea brained showoff if he shows his wings off here then I'll have them off him an' on the scrap pile!"

And finally, Ratchet had lost it altogether and roared: "You can tell the whole lot of 'em, I know what their game is! An' I don't care if the whole Decepticon army's pulverizing the living daylights out of 'em, they ain't comin' in here!"

Bumblebee chuckled at the memory. Yes, he definitely felt better. Even the strange jolts an jars as Ratchet tested his 'equipment' under local anaesthetic block did not seem so bad. In fact ever since Mirage had arrived to 'collect' him and conceal his return to the quarters, he had felt a rather nice numb warmth.

"Keep an optic in him," Ratchet had growled at Mirage. "And keep that rabble a bay till his 'facing sequence goes on standby. And find him a first. _And don't take too long about it!"_

Mirage had smiled, pleasantly. "I can assure you when he gets the urges, I'll handle it!" he'd said to Ratchet. And he'd given Bumblebee a smile which had melted the minibot's circuits and left him hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mirage had already decided who his _first_ was going to be.

Bumblebee admired himself again. Well why not Mirage? The Alphamech liked minibots. Had he not taken a shine to Cliffjumper? Well - initially, anyway, until Mirage ditched his cousin and Cliffjumper started that _Traitor_ stuff. He'd been keen enough until then.

And he, Bumblebee, was better looking than Cliffjumper. Sunstreaker said so! Besides, nobody could fail to be impressed. After all, the codpiece was only of such proportions because of - the minibot swelled with pride - the size of what was underneath.

And Bumblebee couldn't help it. He had to gloat over it just one more time. With a quick listen to check there were no feet approaching, he unhinged the codpiece and removed it, placing it carefully on the berth. Beneath lay the translucent inner cover, of similar dimensions, and beneath that could be clearly seen the reason for the impressive outer array.

Bumblebee marveled at the size of his spike sheath. It jutted there, an extremely decent girth and although only a third the length of his fully extended organ. And it was hardly short in length either! Remembering what Ratchet had taught him, Bumblebee carefully executed the extension sequence, marveling at the way the cover parted and his spike slid out to his full dimensions. Once it was out, the minibot glowed with pride.

Once again, he stood in various poses before the mirror. If he let the thing point downwards, it came almost to his knees! He turned sideways and allowed it to protrude outwards, bouncing on the balls of his feet so that it waggled up and down. Magnificent! He didn't care what Gears– who'd come to see that he was 'all right' now that he had calmed down – had said.

"Well of course it's a whopper!" Gears had growled, when Bumblebee had been unable to resist giving him the news. "Didn't you know that us minibots are renowned for having more than our fair share of metal up front? What we lack in height, we make up for in ..."

"Is yours as big as this?" Bee had cut in, before he could stop himself.

"Of course!" Gears had snarled. "Bigger, actually!" But he had not offered to show Bee the evidence, and Bee suspected this may be a porky pie - although he did not like to think ill of his cousin that way, however much of a bad tempered glitch he may be.

There was a clang in the distance and the sound of feet approaching. Bee's circuits gave a _twang._ It would be Mirage! He said he would be returning around now.

A sharp burst of tingles, rippled across the minibot's sensor net. This could be it! Standby:the onset of the 'urge.' But much as he thrilled at the thought, Bee squirmed in embarassment. To approach his first 'experience' with his spike already hanging out like this would be _sooo_ uncool. Especially with Mirage.

Bee's processor whirled as he tried to remember the retraction sequence. But, to his horror, his spike stayed exactly where it was! He succeeded only in making the cover over the other alteration to his anatomy, the deep port next to his spike, vibrate instead.

"Don't go touching that seal!" Ratchet had growled at him. "Get used to using that thing first," he'd indicated his spike. "You'll know what to do with the other when the right time comes."

The footsteps came closer. In a panic, Bee tried to stop the vibrations. But he couldn't - and now, to his horror, his spike was vibrating as well - in a way which Ratchet had insisted should only happen once you were 'doing it.' Stricken, any pleasant sensations departing rapidly, Bee looked around for the outer codpiece. But he'd forgotten where he'd put it. It was too late anyway. The door hissed open and before he could even cover himself with his hands, Mirage appeared in its frame.

Bumblebee froze. The spy looked at the minibot's large juddering spike and raised an optic ridge, a smile spreading across his aquiline features. "Impressive, Bumblebee!" He said. "However, such techniques are usually best reserved for a little further on in the proceedings."

To his relief, Bee managed to master that bit of the sequence which stopped the vibrations. But his spike was still out there like a silenium pole. Now, however, with Mirage right there, he suddenly was not so embarrassed; in fact, on the contrary, the _tingles_ were back and Bumblebee didn't want it to retract. He liked it there! It felt stiff, hard, ready for action. Heat washed over him, rather as it had just before his primary cover had popped.

Bumblebee looked up at the spy, all blue and white and delicious curves, and felt suddenly shy. "It's great to see you!" he said, aware that his voice had taken on a husky tone. He took a step towards Mirage the idea of touching him both daring and absolutely thrilling. But Mirage held up a hand, placing it on the minibot's chest.

"No, Bee" he said gently. "No!"

The effect was instantaneous. Disappointed ricocheted through Bumblebee's circuits, and his spike drooped, the tingles dissipating as he was consumed with disappointment. He hung his head."You're knocking me back!"

Mirage put a finger under his chin and pulled his head up to look at him squarely. "I'm not," he said. "But I'm not your first, Bumblebee. Besides, that was just a preliminary twinge. The proper sequence hasn't begun yet, and there's still some glitches to iron out, are there not?""

Miserably, the minibot pouted. "Well when, then. And _who?"_

"I'm working on it. Now I want you to do what Ratchet said, relax and inject some coolant. Put that very impressive piece of equipment back in its casing, then later maybe some more work on the retraction sequence would be in order."

Mirage's face softened. "Believe me, it won't be long," he said reassuringly.

…..

The voice of the second in command barked stiffly down the com: _Prowl to Mirage! Report immediately to Optimus Prime. Repeat: report immediately. The matter is urgent!_

Mirage, who had hoped to retire his quarters after calming the minibot down, to contemplate his charge's future over a cube of high grade, came to a halt. Letting out a weary sigh, the spy reversed his steps.

"Now what?" he muttered.

As he made his way to the leader's office, Mirage reflected on the events of the last few days. He could not help but feel a little disappointed in his colleagues - he really had hoped they could control themselves better. Despite Prime's directions, Jazz was embarrassingly frisky and Prowl still had that predatory gleam; The Twins virtually had their tongues hanging out, Bluestreak had babbled on even worse than usual about the minibot. Even Smokescreen had longed suggestively in the recliner at the very mention of the subject.

Nor had Mirage failed to notice that Red Alert had installed an extra two cameras outside the minibot's room.

Of course, the news that Bumblebee now sported an impressively large codpiece didn't help. Although, Mirage thought with a glint of amusement, the size was justified. And those minibots ...

The spy's mind strayed to Cliffjumper, and he smiled to himself. Bumblebee unleashed for the first time could be a true experience. Maybe he should reconsider the position he'd stated in Prime's office ….

But no, Mirage thought, feeling a protective urge towards his junior team member. He'd said he would help him. Despite this display of newfound prowess, the sudden eagerness at the stir of his equipment, Bumblebee had shown the sensitivity of any newly 'popped' mech. He could easily become despondent, lose confidence if the mech wasn't interested enough or just 'used' him. He needed a 'sensitive' _first, _with some spark input, and some' followup' afterwards. Someone who would care for him, even be besotted over him. And after the way things had ended with Cliffjumper, there was no way Mirage was getting 'attached.'

Not wishing to revisit that episode, Mirage returned his thoughts to Bumblebee's 'first.' _Who?_ Bumblebee had said. _Who indeed?_ He wasn't letting any of that randy lot in the rec room loose; that would be far from satisfactory. Maybe another minibot; not his cousins, who would not hear of it of course, but maybe one from Cybertron ... somebody who hadn't had the chance to come to Earth, yet; somebody of his own size and similar disposition who would care for him as he ought to be cared for ...

Except Mirage couldn't think of anyone.

As he drew near Prime's office door, Mirage let out a sigh. Ratchet was right - Bumblebee's proper facing sequence would begin soon. Maybe Mirage would speak to Prime, right now, about bringing a minibot down. The leader prided himself, after all, in the normal course of things, on 'finding the best mech for the job.'

…

The Autobot leader was clearly unhappy. He sat at his large desk with his hands firmly clasped, a grim expression on his battlemasked face. "It's a bother, this whole Bumblebee matter!" he was saying. "Most disturbing!"

Mirage nodded empathetically. "Yes indeed, very disappointing," he agreed. "But don't concern yourself too deeply; after all, you yopurself agreed I was well qualified to take control. Now, I was thinking that maybe another minbot …"

But Prime cut him off. "No, no, _no_ Mirage! Bumblebee's - er - _first_…" he cleared his throat, "is the least of my worries! Indeed - I agree – that alone, and the conduct of your - er - colleagues makes it bad enough ..." he flushed. But since we last spoke, something far worse has happened!"

He shook his head. "It has been brought to my attention that – Lazerbeak was in the area during the event! And I have the most horrible feeling, Mirage, a terrible sinking in my circuits that the bird may have recorded the whole thing!"

Mirage raised an optic ridge. "Well, Prime, I agree that could be a problem," he agreed. "You have to hand it to that bird. She's superb when it comes to unusual and revealing angles."

Prime nodded. "Exactly. And if the footage exposes what really happened …" he shuddered.

"Then the humans will never trust us again!" Mirage sighed. Though frankly, Mirage thought, they were so enamored of the Autobots that he doubted whether a simple mistake as had just happened would seriously lodge them from the pedestal. "Maybe you should just be honest?" he suggested.

But Prime looked at him sharply. "I'm not worried about them!" he said. "It's Megatron! Don't you see, we'll be a laughing stock. Oh I know the Decepticons get up to …" he winced, "things you and I would rather not even imagine! In public! But Mirage, as you know, I have prided myself on complete Autobot discretion!"

Mirage found it was unhelpful and rather distracting to think of Decepticons doing things in public. He kept his attention firmly on Prime.

"It will make us look like complete hypocrites!" the leader went on, getting up and pacing, anxiously. "Megatron will laugh at us. It will weaken morale in our troops, the humans will lose faith and the Decepticons could gain the advantage. Darn it, Mirage! they could win the war!"

Pausing, the Autobot leader shook his head, helplessly. "It's a disaster, Mirage!"

Mirage could not help but feel this was something of an overreaction on the part of the Autobot leader. Nevertheless, he nodded sympathetically.

Prime was looking at him. "I want you to go to the Decepticon base and retrieve that footage!" he said.

Mirage sighed. He might have guessed something like that was coming. It wasn't an appealing prospect. There was that blasted boat trip, for a start. Then all the hanging around at the entrance in the middle of the ocean until someone decided to go in.

He supposed, however, that it would provide a bit of excitement. Plus some fresh air on the way there, and a chance to think about Bumblebee's predicament - since further discussion on the subject with Prime right now did not seem to be an option.

"I'll go right away," he said.

But Prime was lost in thought, his chin in his hand. "What? Oh – uh – yes, of course, of course! Very good Mirage!" And he returned to his desk, still looking perturbed.

….

Rumble lay on the berth in his unkempt, smelly, darkened room. It had been two days since he wrote the poetry, two days of lying here, thinking only of his _beloved. _The longest two days of his life.

With a sigh, the cassette turned over again, changing his view of the portal and fish outside to Frenzy's empty berth and the dreary wall opposite. He scowled. It was all Megatron's fault, he concluded, for the upteenth time. If his new 'benevolence' towards the Insecticons hadn't resulted in a visit, and Kickback hadn't panicked in the confined space of the lift, and Shrapnel hadn't zapped the door to get them out, jamming it and causing the whole system to shut down, the Decepticons wouldn't have been stuck on the ocean floor for two days!

Not, of course, that he would are convey even an inkling of this to the Decapticon leader. And, seemingly, the incident had not perturbed Megatron at all. Autobot activity had been at a low ever since some obscure episode where some humans had panicked over some scrap Rumble didn't know the details of, and he'd been happy to have a 'break' from the fighting.

"We can't get out, but they can't get in either!" he'd gloated, despite Starscream's protestations that the Autobots wouldn't _want_ to get in.

_Well good for him!_ Rumble thought angrily. It was a calamity of the direst proportions for the cassette. Curse those damned bugs - it was them who only a few cycles ago had made Megatron go ballistic over their very presence among the Decepticons and started the 'talking to' about his 'state!' Now this! And to think Megatron had suggested them as a 'solution.'

Pouting, hating the universe, Rumble shuttered his optics. In the distance, shouts of laughter rang out. He grimaced. Megatron had decided that a couple of days 'R and R' might be in order, and he would take a 'lenient' approach to consumption of high grade and other 'pleasures.' The sight of his fellow Decepticons happily taking advantage of the leader's benevolence had only heightened the terrible knawing absence of the minibot in Rumble's life.

He had lain here, not wanting to go out, and not wanting to see Soundwave. His creator was, by all accounts, agitating about Lazerbeak who'd been stuck on land, and Rumble felt ill equipped, in his morose state, to deal with this. Besides, Soundwave was bound to mention his _predicament _again. And Rumble was in no state to deal with that either.

With a sigh, the cassette leaned over and grabbed the datapad on which were inscribed the verses of love. He re-read it and winced. The words which had seemed so alive and expressive the other day now seemed useless, hopelessly inadequate. It was no good! He could write no more until he'd gotten more - a confrontation, a shot fired at him, even just a look or a _glimpse_ of his true love in the distance.

He looked at the datapad again. He could hardly bear the sight of it! Nor could he stand to watch the little holographic representation locked in the cupboard; the very idea of it sent pain shooting along his circuits and straight into his spark.

With a groan, he lay back on the berth and put his arm over his optics.

There was a noise outside; the door opened and Frenzy shot into the room. "Hey, bro!" The other cassette's demeanor could not have been more of a contrast. In a microsecond he was on the berth and bouncing on the end. "Hey!"

Opening one baleful optic, Rumble regarded him. "Wot?"

"Lazerbeak's back!" chirped Frenzy. "She swum here an' climbed in through a portal. An' you just wait till you see what she got. It's all happening in the rec room now!"

Rumble shuttered his optics. "I'll pass ..." he muttered. But Frenzy grabbed hold of his arm and pulled. "C'mon! Ya can't just lie in here the whole time. What's the matter with you anyway. Anyone would think you was in love or some stooped Bottish scap like that heheheh!" And he started to pull Rumble off the berth."

"All right, all right, all right!" Rumble snapped, shoving Frenzy away. Just gimme a minute!"

Rumble sat up, scowling at his sibling. It was only too obvious what sort of mood Frenzy was in. Not participating in this wasn't an option. Frenzy grinned. "They got out the premium high grade!"

Well maybe that might drown Rumble's sorrow and his terrible, unspeakable plight. He managed a half smile.

"Yeah, all right! I'm comin'"

…

The Decepticon rec room was filled with the aroma of oil and high grade. A loud hubbub rang out, punctuated with loud voices, raucous laughter and the clinking of cubes.

Rumble looked around, noting that nearly the entire contingent seemed to be assembled. A mixture of constructicons, triple changers, seekers, coneheads and reflector triplets lounged on the floor or around small tables or stood in groups, cubes in hands, exuberant in their card playing, joke telling or whatever story they were relating. A screen had been set up on the far wall, and next to it, a music device belched out that music Frenzy described as 'human rock.'

The cassette scowled. He was so much _not_ in the mood to be sociable. "What is this?" He snapped at Frenzy.

"Movies!" said Frenzy. "You're gonna love it. Trust me!" He grinned at Rumble. "Just relax! I gotta finish setting up the display."

He bounded off, leaving Rumble alone.

The cassette looked around, noting an unusual level of camaraderie among the various factions. Even the insecticons were in there, he saw now. Everyone, it seemed, was getting on very well: there was shared laughter, a touch here, and stroke there, nips, kisses and every now and then, the blatant squeezing of an aft or a codpiece. Rumble watched as Spyglass climbed on Thrust's lap and proceeded to play with his helmet seam, whilst Skywarp ran a predatory hand along Kickback's wing and was assaulted immediately by the insecticon who extended his long glossa and stuck it firmly into his mouth.

"Slaggin' bugs!" Remembering the 'chat' and Megatron's suggestion again, Rumble shuddered. Spotting a table stacked with high grade, he headed over to it.

"Hey Rumble! Get your cute little aft over here!" It was Bonecrusher, a drunken leer on his faceplates. He was joined in the invitation by Scrapper and Longhaul, who raised their cubes and let out a cheer, soon echoed by Viewfinder and Spectro who were sitting virtually on top of them. Rumble ignored them and kept going, his spark heaving in dismay. How could he even look at these mechs let alone be 'affectionate.' He could not even think of it. There was only one mech in the universe …

Everyone was _infuriatingly _friendly. Rumble felt a hand on his aft as he brushed past Ramjet, who let out a flare of his energy field. The cassette shoved him off, angrily. Arriving at the table, he searched for the most potent looking cube he could find.

"Rumble, _Rumble!_ Nice piledrivers, _drivers_ …" Rumble turned to see Shrapnel lounging by the drinks table, a gleam in his red optics. As he looked on the insecticon gave him a lecherous wink, and two bolts of blue electricity made their way slowly down his antlers.

Rumble spun away, horrified. And then, the awful thought struck him: What if all of this was part of a ploy on the part of Soundwave to get him drunk, more relaxed, less fussy and more inclined to pick a source of 'relief?' He shuddered. Hastily grabbing the cube, he scuttled past the leering bug and made his way over towards Frenzy, who he could now see playing with a swathe of wires and plugs over by the screen.

On the way over, Rumble looked around. There must be some way, any way, he could find to slide out of here. But he thought no further. "All rise for mighty Megatron!" Skywarp's voice ran out.

There was instant silence, followed by the sound of chairs scraping and metal rustling as everyone scrambling to their feet as the silver leader entered, flanked by Starscream and Soundwave.

To Rumble's dismay, Megatron looked to be in an especially good mood – the sort of mood he would be in if some 'plan' had come to 'fruition.' "Please don't get up, my Decepticons!" he commanded with a dismissive wave of his hand. Even Starsctream, although lacking in the exhuberance of the assembled drinkers, seemed not unhappy. There was more scraping and rustling as everyone sat back down.

Lazerbeak, who flitted immediately across to alight on Megatron's arm, then, and Frenzy hauled a large chair across in their direction. "Don't just stand there, give us a hand!" he hissed at Rumble, who moved across and complied, his mind still frozen with the awful possibilities of what may be to come.

The bird chirped excitedly up and down. Soundwave nodded. Of all assembled, only he seemed relatively sober and solemn."Well, Lazerbeak! Are you ready to play the transmission?" the bird nodded.

"Very well then!" said Megatron, seating himself. "Let the show begin!"

* * *

_To be continued. What happens when Mirage arrives?_


	5. Chapter 5

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

_Warnings: Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions._

* * *

Thank you so much everybody for continuing to read this and submit such great reviews, even when I am so slow. It encourages me greatly!

This chapter starts to bring things together, though there's a few more hoops to jump through yet.

Re Bumblebee watching TV - I wanted him to watch something with was on a lot in 1985 and it seemed to me that 'He Man and the Masters of the Universe' would have appealed!

The first part of this also refers to the Season 2 Episode "Sea Change" in which Seaspray 'transformed' into a mer-human.

* * *

**~ Chapter 5**_  
_

Mirage watched as a trolley bearing a mangled looking Powerglide, pushed by an annoyed looking Ratchet, disappeared in the direction of the medbay.

Seaspray shook his head. "Darned shame," he said in his throaty warble. "He nearly caught Lazerbeak, y' know! Kinda feel for him. I know he shoulda turned on his radar when the bird flew into that cloud, but the thing messes with your head like that. Darned silly place to put a building that high anyway!"

Mirage supposed he should have been more sympathetic. It was hard, sometimes, with Powerglide, that was all. And if the plane hadn't blown his 'capture attempt' it would have saved a lot of trouble. He cocked an optic ridge. "Did we learn anything?"

"Yeah - their elevator's outta commission!" said Seaspray.

Mirage frowned. "How did you find that out?"

"Lazerbeak yelled at him just before he crashed. Said if he wanted it he'd have to go to Con headquarters and he hoped PG could swim. "I thought that was weird, so I checked it out. Sure enough, that tower thing o'theirs was in pieces – Constructicons were workin' on it. That's why we haven't had any Decepti-shenanigans since the – uh …" he coughed. "Since the presentation!"

Mirage sighed. If Prime were really serious about finishing off the Decepticons, surely instead of him creeping around the base, a bomb dropped squarely on their HQ would be more effective?

"It don't mean you can't get in," Seaspray was saying. "If you go in the south side past the domes, there's an airlock near the control room. Must be if they need to get out in a hurry or something." He grinned. "Not that I've tried getting _in!_ I was a bit - uh - preoccupied the last time I was there. Bit hard to concentrate when somebody's petting yer flippers!"

Mirage wished he had not just been given that information. It was bad enough that Seaspray had liked getting turned into an organic mer-human at all. But _that?_ down _there?_ Right next to the _Decepticons?_ The racer's frame gave a small shudder. But he supposed Seaspray had always been weird.

Seaspray was frowning. "Too bad the Traalian king decided it violated their law to have anyone other than one o'them on their island, he grumbled." I mean - I _am_ one o'them – well - kind of! Or I _was_ …. "He sighed. "Mech we had some fun! There was this other time …"

"Any chance of some hardcopy directions?" Mirage cut in. Quite Apart from wanting to hear no more about Seaspray's 'mer-human' issues, the sooner he got this mission over with the better.

Seaspray caught on. "I'll give you a map!" he said. "Oh – and err…. Just one more thing?"

Mirage raised an optic ridge. "Yes?"

"I kinda miss Alana you know – relays have been feelin'a bit 'twitchy' lately. Is Bumblebee by any chance ….?

"No!" said Mirage sharply. "A map would be most helpful. Thank you, Seaspray!"

...

Bumblebee sat wistfully on the berth, alone again. The 'urges' had subsided after Mirage left – which was expected, and something Bumblebee understood to now be the 'calm before the storm.'

And, it was a relief - except that the minibot now found himself listless, and not really knowing what to do. He glanced aimlessly around, looking at the cubes and plates which lay on tables and shelves, along with weaponry and pieces of ammo - gear from ages ago which he hadn't put away.

He should tidy up. Yes, that's what he should do! He wanted his first 'partner' to be impressed, after all! But – the minibot sighed - he couldn't really be _bothered._ Besides, it would still be a little while before Mirage came back. He'd do it when the Alphamech's return was imminent. Perhaps he could 'decorate' his room to suit _whoever it was._

Seating himself on the berth, Bumblebee looked down at his codpiece. He couldn't help smiling again, and it crossed his mind to play with it just one more time ….

But no! Not that either. Did he not just decide to give his equipment a break before the 'event?' And he should get some rest! Yes, that was it! After all, when Mirage returned with _whoever it was_, he wasn't going to get much, was he? He just had to be patient. With a resigned sigh, Bumblebee lay down.

Reaching out, he flicked on the TV beside the berth. A human with pink legs appeared on the screen, holding a sword. "I have the power!" he proclaimed. Ah- now _this_ would take Bee's mind off things. This show was cool! There'd be a flash in a minute, and the human's legs would change colour. Then his voice would go all deep, and he'd be wearing armour, and he'd go charging off on his 'battle cat' to take out villains.

Bumblebee sighed. It was a pity humans couldn't transform and do things like He-Man. He would have been handy to have around. If Spike could do that they'd have more in common ….

_Spike!_ Bumblebee cringed. He'd hardly thought of his friend in the last few days, much less tried to contact him. He should have called, asked how Chip was at least. Nobody had forbidden him to do that.

Staving off uncomfortable feelings of guilt, Bumblebee studied He-Man. He now battled Skeletor – who had a laugh like Megatron's. And now, He-Man was hammering at the walls of Castle Greyskull - which was kinda like the Decepticon base. The whole castle shook, then fell apart. Carnage! It was a bit like – well – like that purple punk Rumble caused for the Autobots.

Bumblebee frowned. Fancy thinking of _him!_ How many crevasses and ravines had he fallen into because of him?

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, it came into Bumblebee's processor that - destructive though Rumble was - he was not as bad as some other cons. And that purple – it was quite a nice colour! He was handy with a gun. And then - to the minibot's amazement – came the revelation that Rumble was really not that bad looking! No - not bad at all!

Bumblebee was aware of Skeletor getting buried, still cackling evilly and swearing revenge. But only vaguely. His mind seemed suddenly fastened on the cassette.

Yes …. Rumble was actually _quite attractive._ And when he was banging away with those piledrivers, the dust rising in a flurry, that was really_ veeery_ sexy! It was, of course, a _pity_ the cassette _was _a Decepticon …. but maybe he just needed to see how to _do good _with his piledrivers. Like He-Man did good with his fists.

Bumblebee could not help but once more visualise the cassette. He saw him poised over a crevasse, his broad shoulders working as metal pounded the ground . A ripple went through his interface relays, and his spike shifted, emerging a little. He put a hand on his codpiece. It glowed warmly as for the first time ever, Bee's energy field crackled with a small flare.

The minibot sat bolt upright. His processor reeled in shock! Where in the universe did _that _come from? He shouldn't even be thinking such things, let alone – _flaring his field?_ That was reserved for his first! With whom Mirage would be here, very soon, and who was _not _going to be a Decepticon.

And how could he even compare Rumble to He-Man? It had come to this! He must call Spike. _Right now! _

Sitting on the side of the berth, intaking heavily, the minibot activated his comm. But before he had a chance to put it in 'human phone' mode, there was a knock at the door.

Bee froze. Surely it couldn't be Mirage. Not _already?_ No! He needed to get properly cosy watching TV, get _silly thoughts_ out of his head. This was – too soon!

Another knock, louder this time. Bumblebee sprang up, glancing around in alarm. He should have tidied up! To his horror, purple bodies and piledrivers swept again into his processor. "You'll never get away with this, He-man!" cackled Skeletor.

Bumblebee panicked, imagining laughter in the rec room. "Weird!" he could hear them say. "Heard his place was a tip, he had the TV on, and his mind seemed kinda – _elsewhere!"_

He-Man disappeared from the screen as Bee feverishly flicked the 'off' switch. Frantically, he surveyed himself in the mirror. Well at least he looked all right! His codpiece jutted out impressively, as before. But he _still_ could see an image of Rumble!

_Bang bang bang!_

Heat swept through Bumblebee. This was terrible! Amazingly, he was now 'ready.' But not for whoever was out there!

Well there was no time for self recrimination. Besides, surely as soon as he opened the door, all thoughts of the Decepticon would vanish once and for all?

"I'm coming!" Bumblebee hollered, aware of the static in his vocalizer.

...

In the video room annexed to the main rec room, an argument had broken out.

"Give it!" hissed the Reflector triplets together as Spyglass made a grab for the Lazerbeak, now compressed to cassette form in Frenzy's hand. "This is our show!"

"This is Lazerbeak!" Frenzy hissed back, holding the tape out of reach. "And I set this up. Get lost! This is cassette business – unless you wanna have it out with Soundwave!"

"You still need us to activate the equipment!" said the Reflector triplets together. "We're the experts. How do we know you've adjusted the controls right! It will come out all fuzzy!"

There was silence in the main room, interspersed with the odd shuffle and snicker and the steady tap-tapping of Megatron's finger on the arm of his chair, which increased in loudness as the Decepticon leader grew impatient. "Starscream!" he snapped.

The Seeker sprang up and turned, picking his way through the waiting Decepticons and to the video room. "What the heck is going on?" he hissed as he burst in. He lowered his voice. "You know how Megatron is about 'waits.' You wanna see my helm caved in _again?_

"It's him!" said the triplets and three index fingers pointed at Frenzy. "He won't give us Lazerbeak!"

"Me?" Putting his hands on his hips, Frenzy pouted in indignation. They won't turn on the friggin' machine!"

Starscream grabbed the tape from Frenzy's hand and shoved it into the machine. "Do it!" he snapped at the triplets. They hesitated, and looked at each other. They snickered in unison. "Yes, mighty Starscream!"

Frenzy rolled his optics. "Sycophants!" he muttered.

Viewfinder opened a panel on his wrist and pulled out a connector. The others looked on smugly as he plugged it in. The machine whirred into life.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Starscream snapped.

The Seeker strode back out, the smirking triplets following. A sea of impatient looking faces looked up. "Technical hitch!" Starscream announced. "All fixed now!" Sitting down, he tried not to take too much notice of the glower Megatron gave him.

Frenzy watched them go, still cross. How dare Starscream 'manhandle' Lazerbeak like that! Well – he'd show them. He looked at the machine. Black and red plugs connected it to the power source in the wall. Grinning, cheered again, Frenzy unplugged two of them and swapped them around.

And then he shrugged. Ah well, he wasn't sure what that would do – but if it did something, then it might teach those smarftafted freaks a lesson. And if it didn't? Well – he got to watch the show again, didn't he? And as the only one who's seen it before, he knew which 'bits' to pay attention to.

"Heheh! Hold on t'ya cables!" he said to Rumble as he re-joined him in the main room.

...

Mirage tried to be patient as the water drained from the airlock. In it floated seaweed, and a collection small sea creatures which he'd managed to dislodge from his seams. Mirage winced as small fish brushed his leg and yet another crab crawled out of his left foot. Primus he hated this underwater stuff!

He thought of Seaspray happily chugging around the ocean bed, and right now it didn't matter whether the boat had a fishtail or rudder, Mirage was jealous. It was at times like these that Mirage cursed at being the only one able to use an electro disruptor.

Still, he reminded himself, this was a mission of – some importance. Perhaps not to be trusted to – well – to mechs who thought it good fun to interface in mer-human garb and who were friends with planes that crashed into buildings.

Looking around, Mirage noticed a small shower attachment on the side of the wall. Turning it on, he doused himself, wincing at the temperature. They could at least have provided a heated jet! Mirage couldn't believe that things were that desperate down here. Surely Megatron and Starscream had their own private heated airlock shower? Oh well, maybe they didn't. It was one more good reason not to become a Decepticon.

Satisfied that he'd washed as many of the organics out as he could – although he could still feel _things_ in his joints which shouldn't be there – Mirage let the last of the water drain away. Then he activated the electro disruptor and pulled the door opening lever, stepping over the carpet of now flapping, gasping seacreatures and up the step, into the main corridor.

The door hissed slowly shut. Mirage did a quick scan. Nobody about!

Mirage eyed the chamber flood switch. Best to leave it unflooded so he could make a quick getaway. But he had a sudden vision of the floundering creatures. If he didn't flood the chamber they'd die. With a sharp "Tch!" Mirage pulled the lever. Damnit, he really was an Autobot these days. He'd gotten as sentimental as Beachcomber!

Well never mind, perhaps I'll just open it and flood the whole darned base! Mirage reasoned as he crept along, keeping the dart gun poised. In the distance he heard noise, laughter. A quick look at the map Seaspray had downloaded told him the sound was coming from the direction of the rec room.

A voice spoke – something about Megatron – then everything went quiet.

A crowd in the rec room with Megatron? Mirage had a pretty good idea he knew what for! He cursed Powerglide's ineptitude again. How the heck was he supposed to get the footage _now?_ Keeping his weapons on standby and cursing, Mirage sprinted down the corridor.

He didn't see the only Decepticon who wasn't in the room – the one with the special cat optics who could see through the shield – emerge from the store cupboard under which she'd been hiding and stalk after him, her belly to the ground.

…

"You gonna let me in, or what?" The voice sounded as though its owner didn't like being kept waiting.

All the excitement and arousal rushed out of Bumblebee, the minibot deflating like a popped balloon. It was only – _Gears._

The heat went well and truly out of his codpiece, his spike retracting back into its sheath; but to his surprise, this was strangely relieving_. Oh well, _thought Bee, as all _other thoughts _went mercifully out of his processor. _ Back to the original plan! _

Although he wished it wasn't his cousin. This was bound to be another dressing down! Hadn't Gears said enough? And then, he froze. No – this would be worse! This would be the 'pep talk' Gears had promised, the lecture about how minibots were supposed to 'do it.'

And he really did not think he could take hearing about Gears' spike again. The very thought of this drained any last remnants of passion from both the minibot and Bumblebee's 'equipment. '

With a resigned sigh, the minibot opened the door. Why did everything have to be so hard? "Hello!" he said in a flat voice.

But the red minibot bounced into the room. He looked Bumblebee up and down and grinned. "Don't sound so sad!" he said.

Bee was taken aback. Gears was – cheerful. And he looked – different. There were none of the usual scratches and dints which the red minibot usually liked to sport as 'an indication that someone on this darned base at least did some work.' The red panels were polished to a high shine, the grill at the front a gleaming white, and his optics sparkled blue. Bumblebee thought he caught a whiff of something aromatic, which blended interestingly with the smell of diesel. It smelt like – _afterwash._

Bumblebee's mind boggled. Gears was wearing _afterwash?_ " I'm er …. fine!" he murmured, still finding it hard to believe this apparent transformation.

Gears beamed at Bumblebee in a way he hadn't seen since his cousin was reprogrammed by the Decepticons. He didn't look like he was about to get cross – or give a peptalk. And now, Bee had a bad feeling about this. He looked – _excited._ Surely – _oh surely not_ - Gears couldn't be presenting himself as a hopeful?

A chill went through Bumblebee's circuits. Much as he was fond of his cousin, he could not even _imagine_ doing 'that' with him! Even if they weren't related. Which they were – mercifully – which meant that, of course, that this was impossible.

"I guess you'd be wondering why I'm here?" Gears was saying brightly, as he plonked himself on the chair. Opening a compartment in his arm, he produced two cubes. Bumblebee's optics widened again. They were vintage high grade, of an exclusive variety only brewed in the golden age of Cybertron.

Gears handed one to him. "Been saving these!" he said. "Thought this called for a celebration!"

Bee took it slowly. "You mean – a celebration that I've popped?" he asked. "You mean you're not mad about – how it happened – any more?" The bad feeling intensified. After Gears former recriminations, this made no sense.

"No!" Gears said cheerfully, cracking his cube. "That Brawn and I uncovered the Clan Records of Gard Nordic!" He took a sip, visibly savouring the taste. "Had them in my memory banks for eons, it turned out. Just never really had a need to retrieve 'em!"

And then, horror of horrors, he gave Bumblebee a _wink._

Bumblebee was having trouble intaking. "What do records have to do with anything?" he tried to keep out the squeak which had entered his vocalizer.

Gears shook his head. "My my, Bumblebee. Never were the sharpest tool in the box, were ya? Never mind! Open that thing up and have a drink. Cos here it is – if you hadn't guessed already! Turns out we ain't related after all. Different clan strains – the colour, you know – shoula realized. You're one of Brawn's lot!"

He took an extra large swig. "And that settled the matter! I spoke to Prime and he's in total agreement - I'm gonna be your first!"

…..

Spyglass seemed intent on rubbing it in. But he looked nervous. And with good reason, Rumble thought. Megatron's finger was tapping the arm of the chair again.

"It is our very great pleasure to present, on behalf of Soundwave, Lazerbeak, Rumble, Frenzy and all fellow Decepticons, in a special presentation, shown on our brand new video viewing equipment which Viewfinder, Spectro and I have put together ..."

There was muttering. For a bunch of Decepticons couped on the base for three days, half charged and drunk and now having to sit still, this was wearing thin. "Get on with it!" somebody yelled. Megatron's optics flared. "Indeed!" he roared. "And this had better be worth my while!"

"Er ... right ..." Viewfinder opened the wrist panel and pressed a button. The lights dimmed. An expectant hush fell. A white rectangle appeared on the wall, followed by a scene of Autobots standing in a group with humans watching – obviously some 'official' occasion.

Rumble yawned. He tried to remember what Frenzy had said this was. Probably the prelude to some battle scene which would have them all roaring and cheering within minutes. The Autobozos would be saving the humans whilst the Cons trashed the Autobozos. He, Rumble, was probably even in it - though he couldn't recall this part.

Oh well, at least Megatron would soon be in a better mood. The leader loved it when his Decepticons 'got into' images of Autobots getting smashed up.

And normally Rumble would have been cheering right along there with them. But today ... he just couldn't muster the enthusiasm. He just hoped it would be over soon, so he could get back to his moping.

The tape chugged on. There was no fighting. It was evidently some presentation thing. Optimus Prime appeared, and started banging on. The assembled Decepticons stirred, and angry mutterings rose, an impatience running through them which Rumble sympathised with.

But then, just as Rumble was convinced that he really should have stayed in his room, something happened. An object of interest came on to the screen. An object of _great _interest. The cassette's optics widened. He sat up. Then his spark swelled as though it might burst in his chest, as there right in front of him was none other than – _his beloved._

Rumble couldn't believe it. It just changed everything! The movie show was suddenly a wonderful idea, the best idea in ages! He wanted to hug Frenzy, do a jig, cheer! The cassette sighed happily. Bumblebee looked so cute and yellow and shiny standing there. Beside the others – the ugly others, who looked miserable and pissed off – Bumblebee shone like a star!

Rumble's sensors tingled as the minibot gave a cute little smile. Sigma, he was so – huggable. So ….

_As I saw you standing there _

_I felt like I just walked on air!_

Oh the joy! Rumble felt his spark lift; he glowed hot as almost unbearable desire engulfed him. And now he was happy - oh more than happy- that this wasn't a battle video. Because even though Bumblebee always seemed to emerge unscathed – Rumble marvelled some more as he thought this – seeing the minibot get pounded would have somewhat dampened his euphoria.

But nobody else shared his enthusiasm. There was a muttering and mumbling in the ranks. "Whadda we wanna watch this for? Yelled one of the Constructicons. There were other mumblings: "You gotta be kidding!" and "Dumb bird likes Autonerd shows now …" and "_Boo-ring!"_

"Naa – check out Prowlie's aft!" snickered somebody else.

"Silence!" roared Megatron. Although he looked less than impressed himself. Beside him, Soundwave shifted awkwardly.

Frenzy snickered evilly. "Just keep watching. Are they in for a surprise!" He whispered to Rumble. "Just watch Bumblebee's codpiece! Well – what passes for a codpiece!"

For a microsecond, Rumble wanted to clobber Frenzy. How could he be so – _crude_ – in the face of such adorableness? Didn't he realize this wasn't just 'any' Autobot they were looking at? This was the love of his life!

'Get yer filthy optics off it!' Rumble wanted to snarl. But he found his optics, nevertheless, inevitably drawn to that part of the minibot's anatomy. And it was then that Rumble noticed - for the very first time - that Bumblebee had only a primary cover.

At first, the cassette's spark sank in dismay. That would mean Bumblebee couldn't 'do it' yet. But then, he had a happy thought. A _very _happy thought. That meant Bumblebee hadn't _been _doing it with any of those other bozos either! One day, Bumblebee would _pop_, and then he would pick a first. And who knew, that first could be …

This opened up whole new possibilities! Rumble imagined himself wooing the minibot, his hands sliding over the yellow panels as he kissed him and whispered: "I'm gonna made this REAL good for ya!" And maybe came out with some more poetry. Heat washed through him, as his interface relays burned with longing.

Frenzy nudged him. "Keep watching!" he snickered. Rumble did – but then his optics widened like saucers. For he saw what Frenzy was on about. "No!" he muttered.

If he hadn't been directly looking, he would easily have missed it – and indeed, from the snickers and remarks about doorwings, the others were too interested in others. But Rumble most certainly saw it. His spark spasmed in horrified realization. The cover was vibrating. It was unthinkable! Bumblebee was going to_ pop. _Right there in front of Optimus Prime!

On the screen, Jazz dropped the medal. There was a cheer, and dirty laughter erupted from some of the Decepticons as the Porsche bent over. But Rumble rose from his seat. "No!" he gasped.

"What?" Said Frenzy. "The other cassette looked totally confused.

"Heheh! Never knew you had a soft spot for black and whites!" somebody snickered.

Megatron 's head snapped around, his optics ablaze as he regarded Rumble as furiously as he had that day he'd told Rumble to find a 'partner.' But Rumble wasn't looking. His optics were glued to the screen, transfixed by the cover, which looked as though at any minute now ….

"NO!" He wailed. And now the others were silent, all looking at him. Megatron opened his mouth to speak. But just then, several things happened.

There was a _bang,_ and the screen went blank. A whine of equipment powering down sounded from the control room, as smoke drifted through the door. Megatron looked murderously over at it as Frenzy cackled – just as an alarm rang out shrilly. "Autobot intruder! Autobot intruder!" an automated voice declared.

There was a strange silence, as though time hung suspended. Then, everyone moved at once. There was a scramble and scraping of chairs, as excited chatter and clamour erupted and weapons clicked into readiness, the 'boring' footage forgotten .

"Everybody SIT DOWN!" Roared Megatron. Just as the door flew open and Ravage leapt in with a loud MEE-OWW!"

Everyone froze again as the cat stopped in front of them holding up a front leg. Energon dripped from where one paw dangled loosely.

"He got me!" she wailed. "Pitspawned Alphamech! Autobot fiend! Evil cat enemy. He got me!"

* * *

Sorry Ravage is so AU but I do like her this way!

Hope you liked - thank you for reading :-) 3


	6. Chapter 6

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

_**Warnings:** Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions. **I feel obliged** also to warn for some **non con** 'advances' to Bumblebee from Gears. It's pretty light hearted and doesn't get far. I'm not a non con person, so my attempts at it are comparatively lightweight - but if any non con at all upsets you then I suggest you don't read.  
_

* * *

This moves us quite a bit closer to the approaching romantic encounter. Thanks to all who've read and reviewed *hugs.*

* * *

**~ Chapter 6 ~  
**

"Turn that darned thing off!" Megatron roared. Frenzy sprinted over and flicked a switch on the wall. The alarm ceased; then everyone was staring at Ravage, as her ruined paw dripped energon on to the rec room floor.

Soundwave stepped forward. "Come here. Kitty kitty kitty." He intoned. Starscream rolled his optics. "Ridiculous!" he muttered as Megatron's optics flared in apparent agreement.

There was a pregnant silence, accompanied by stares as the cat limped laboriously over to her creator, in such a way as to suggest that although she was hurt, she was not _that_ hurt, and that the scene was being played for maximum dramatic effect.

"There there there!" Soundwave intoned, stroking her head. She gave a sad little 'mew' and leaned into his touch.

Megatron's patience wore thin. "Hook!" he snapped. "Fix the paw!" The medic looked at the other Constructicons, who shrugged. With a sigh, he started across to the injured cat.

As Hook examined the shattered limb, Megatron was at his side, looming over her, hands on his hips. "Well Ravage?"

There was a hissing sound, as Hook applied a small solder gun to the leaking energon conduits. A restless stirring went through the Decepticons. Ravage looked up at Megatron with tortured red optics. "Mirage is here," she wailed. "He set me up. He ambushed me in the corridor!"

At once, the stirring became an excited ripple. Hopeful lecherous grins appeared on faces, and then there were whisperings and mumblings: "All right ... piece of Alpha aft –_ nice_ ... first one to get him gets first pick …. lets get outta here first so we can get a head start …"

"Mirage Mirage!" the insecticons chittered excitedly. "Finish what we started ….!" Shrapnel cackled.

"Silence!" roared Megatron, his optics flaring murderously. But by now, the half drunken Decepticons had had to 'behave' for too long, and the fearsome leader's command did not have quite the clout it might otherwise have enjoyed. The murmurings increased, voices rising rapidly in volume as the click of weapons started again.

Megatron stared at them, his face a picture of astonishment and abject fury. Starscream looked at him, and then at the recalcitrant Decepticons, and laughed out loud. "Well Megatron – you know what I always say about too much R and R. Your authority seems to have – failed!"

The voices reached a crescendo "Well what are we waiting for?" yelled Ramjet. "There was an immediate roar of: "YEAH!" and movement started towards the door.

The Decepticon leader's optics blazed like coals. "It has done nothing of the kind!" he croaked.

Soundwave remained, stroking Ravage's head, the cat now lying on her side with her optics shuttered whilst Hook silently tended the paw. The other Constructicons gave him a hopeful glance before joining the exiting throng.

"Starscream – this is all your fault. Get out of my sight!" Megatron wasn't sure why this was, exactly. But it just had to be. "Shrapnel!" he bawled.

...

Amid the scramble and excitement, Rumble stood his ground. The hell with Mirage – Rumble had trouble understanding at the best of times why, the spy did one of his sneak attacks like this – which weren't that rare after all – everyone acted like a rock star had come to the school fete.

But hey – Mirage had stopped the show. Rumble decided that, much as he thought the guy a complete tosser, he would have to buy him a drink sometime. Or something. _Maybe._

Hell - there was no time to think of it anyway! The crucial thing – what he absolutely had to do right now - was make a break for the video room without Megatron or Starscream or Soundwave seeing. And the chances looked good! Sounders was 'tied up' - and mech was that cat _bunging it on_ – the other two were arguing. Everyone else was about to exit. Now was his big chance!

But – alas – getting to the door to the video room would mean going right past them! The cat would likely wail that she wanted him there - for whatever stupid reason. Worse, he could get roped into 'helping' Hook – the slagger delighted in getting mechs he didn't like in the medbay, making them look at things which made one's circuits squirm. 'Mechs Hook didn't like' extended to most of the Cons on the base – and definitely to Rumble.

The cassette despaired, looking helplessly at the door. But no - he must get that footage!

Rumble swallowed hard. Right – _just make a beeline for it and don't stop!_ An expression of determined resolution appeared on his faceplates, and he started towards the door. But he didn't get far.

There was a blinding blue flash, and Rumble's body 'lit up' as searing heat crashed through him and electric charge ripped through his circuits.

Rumble fell to his hands and knees. "What the frag …" he gasped. He looked up just in time to see Shrapnel 's antlers deliver a second bolt. Electricity fritzed around the room, missing him this time but zapping others still standing, who fell to the floor by the door.

The smell of ozone and singed circuitry filled the room. But then there was a change in mood, as sounds of surprise and appreciation began. "A freebie from Shrapnel? Cool!" somebody muttered. "Hey - if that's on offer we're staying right here…." "Awww yeah, nice!"

Meanwhile, Megatron was striding to the front of the room. "Thank you Shrapnel!" He snapped. "Very useful. I think maybe _you_ should become my second in command …."

"Megatron, I must protest … he shouldn't _do_ that in a confined space!" Starscream was stumbling after him. Their backs were to Rumble. The cassette saw his chance.

As he passed his creator and Hook, Soundwave opened his mouth to speak, and Rumble was uncomfortably aware of Hook's optics boring into him. "Gotta sort something out!" he muttered as he shot past. The cat opened one optic which glinted at him, knowingly.

* * *

_Meanwhile, back on the Ark ….._

Bumblebee thought he had not heard right. His optics widened with horror. "It can't be!" he whispered.

Gears grinned, lecherously. "Ah – but it is!" A compartment on his arm came open and he whipped out a chart, which Bee could see, to his utmost dismay, was a family tree of sorts. "Here – see for yourself."

Bumblebee didn't need to. He had absolutely no doubt that his ex-cousin had meticulously scoured the records, and that what he had uncovered was the truth. He shrank back, a cold spear going through his core, his new 'equipment' diminished to a cold lump between his legs.

Inwardly, he chided himself. He should have been more self assertive! He should have not waited for arrangements to be made for him. He should have stood up to Ratchet, told Mirage that _thank you very much, but he could look after himself_. Made his own selection. Why – other ' popped' mechs decided for themselves!

He should have called Spike. Yes - Instead of lounging uselessly in front of the TV. The human would have told him to get his act together. He was always telling Bee he let the others walk all over him!

Gears was leaning up against the door frame. Bumblebee positioned himself as far away as he could, his back to the TV, hands clenched on the table which supported it. He watched, horrified, as something which looked like an attempt at empathy appeared on Gears' faceplates. "Say," the red minibot said. "This is as much of a surprise for me as it is for you!"

Then the terrible smile was back. "But hell, Bee! Ever since I found out the news I been thinkin' of nothing but you! You know what? I was so horny last night I couldn't leave Brawn alone. We went at it like a couple o'mechelescents!"

Bumblebee did not need that information. Oh he _sooo_ did not need it! He did everything in his power _not _to picture it. Visions of the other Autobots ran through his head. Any of them would have been better than this! Into his mind came the cassette with the piledrivers again. That was better than this! In fact – that would be _one helluva lot_ better than this.

Gears was moving towards him. "I gather you ain't quite ready yet," he said. "But how about a little _warm up_?"

There was a faint rattling, and Bee could not help but glance down. Then his optics widened like saucers. This could not be happening! Gears had his hand on his codpiece - and Bumblebee noted with a sinking spark that it was, indeed, gargantuan compared to the rest of the minibot - and the whole assembly was vibrating. Heat poured off the other minibot and then – something even worse. Gears' energy field flared.

Sparks scattered over Bumblebee. Gears chuckled. "Wey - hey!" he exclaimed, his voice now horrendously husky. "I may not be the youngest and happiest mech on the base but I sure ain't lost my touch!"

Bee recoiled in horror. Pushing back against the TV table so it pressed against the wall, he tried to think fast. Presumably this 'revelation' meant Windcharger would be 'available,' and Cliffjumper. Whilst it still took some effort to think of his 'cousins' in that way, it was infinitely preferable also to the predicament before him now.

"Nooo …." Squeaked Bumblebee. His optics darted around the room. "You're right. I'm not ready. Why don't we – uh – watch TV?"

But Gears kept coming. He wagged a finger. "You naughty little devil, playing hard to get, eh?"

Bumblebee fought frantically for a solution. And then, it came to him. Tell Mirage, of course! The spy would be here in a jiffy. He would 'deal' with this and put right whatever ludicrous chain of events had led to this state of affairs. Yes, he would – especially since Gears didn't like him, and said rude things at every available opprotunity.

Leaning back over the table, Bumblebee activated his comm.

/Mirage?/ he squeaked.

* * *

_And at the Decepticon base again ..._

/This is not a good time, Bee. I'm – a little busy!/

Mirage tried to sound as calm as possible. Shutting off the com, he looked at the leaking half-paw on the floor and sighed. Trust Ravage to make things more difficult!

He had tried to not hurt her. "Ravage!" he'd said cordially when the cat appeared, deactivating the shield and withdrawing his weapons into arm compartments. "Good to see you!" he'd held his arms wide. "Hey, I'll never forget when I was a mechelesecent and we used to go turbofox hunting!"

But Ravage was in no mood for nostalgia. And. Of course, the cat always had to be a drama queen.

"You're a traitor!" she'd hissed. "You didn't join the Decepticons!"

Mirage had groaned inwardly. How many times had they had this conversation? "Ravage we've been through all this!" he'd said. "Now look – if you help me out today – well, you never know. I might reconsider my decision."

But the cat was not easily fooled. "You're a liar!" she'd cried. "And not even a good one!"

"Yeah!" Mirage had had to agree. "Well that's kinda the reason why I'm not a Decepticon, isn't it?"

The cats optics had arrowed to slits. "Soundwave will deal with you!' she'd hissed. And It had been at that precise moment that Bee had commed him. In the second it had taken him to identify the caller, the cat had sprung.

All the same, Mirage had been faster. In an instant, he'd extracted the dart gun. He dodged and fired, missing her body but shattering the paw. The cat had given an agonized yelp and leaped away up the corridor, a trail of energon lingering in her wake.

Now, Mirage briefly contemplated calling Bee back. He looked at the mangled piece of paw on the ground. He knew exactly where Ravage was going. No – the minibot's rising passions could wait until he was out of here.

Which was exactly where he intended to be, post haste. He'd figure something else regarding this 'footage.' There was no way he was putting up with Soundwave and a Decepticon interrogation routine. _Especially_ not if insecticons were here too!

Mirage turned quickly back to the airlock door, just as the inevitable alarm rang out. To his dismay, he found himself unable to shift it. Damn! The alarm must have automatically barred all possible exits!

Quickly, Mirage retrieved the map Seaspray had provided. He saw that he was close to Megatron and Starscream's quarters, and that the noise had obviously been coming from the rec room. He strained his audials. Apart from the alarm, things seemed to have gone quiet. Then the alarm ceased as well.

Mirage looked at the map again. Beyond the rec room lay the main exit. And the elevator may be defunct, but Mirage was certain he could make it up the lift shaft ...

Except that the noise just started up again.

Damn! Mirage assessed the map. Corridors to more quarters lay to either side. But just a little way from the control room was another corridor, leading to a separate enclave away from the rest. Soundwave and the cassette's quarters!

The last place Soundwave would go first would be his own quarters. Swiftly, Mirage took off in that direction.

...

Behind the closed door of the video room, spark wrenching caws came from the recorder, which Rumble interpreted as: 'Let me out, slagger!' He had forgotten that Lazerbeak herself was still in the machine.

"Shut it, Lazerbeak!" he hissed.

"Soundwave! Help!" the bird cried.

"He can't hear ya! He's fixing up Ravage an'Mirage has shown up. You know what that means."

More unhappy sounds came from the machine. Lazerbeak knew as well as Rumble that Soundwave's entire focus would be on the blue and white Autobot spy. But right now, Rumble didn't need this. Not when so much was at stake!

"Look – just put a lid on it!" he hissed. "I'll let you out in a minute – provided you shuddup!"

From the main room, metal footsteps rang on the concrete floor as Megatron paced, his hands behind his back. Rumble could hear faint metal rustlings as the Decepticons shifted in front of him. "Later," Megatron said menacingly, "I will deal with whatever incompetent fool failed to seal the airlock near our quarters - which is undoubtedly where our _guest_ came in!"

There were low murmurs – but no titterings or suggestive remarks. Megatron had regained control.

"For now, Decepticons, you know the drill!" the leader went on. "Starscream - you and your trine will take the north corridor and the control area …. "

"Actually Megatron," came the Seeker's voice, "I think it might be better if we concentrated on …"

"Shut up!" roared the leader. "Constructicons? You will take the south side!"

"Yes sir!" it was Scrapper's voice, eager now to please. Rumble rolled his optics. He imagined the rest of them nodding in concurrence. They'd all moved into 'obedience' mode – and he'd be expected to as well. Which he would - if he could just get the_ slaggin'_ footage to safety first ….

"Reflector, you will block off the entrance to Decepticon command quarters …." "Oh absolutely, Megatron. Pleased to be of service, Megatron!"

Rumble scoffed at the sound of their sycophantic voices. But the cassette reeled inwardly. This was serious! Any minute now, Megatron would say: "Rumble, Frenzy …." And give them a station. And then there would be a silence, and the leader would roar "_And where is Rumble?"_ And Hell! Not only would that frag up his little 'mission,' but as if he wasn't in enough trouble already!

"Thrust! You will get down to the basement and armoury! And stop looking at Shrapnel like that!"

"Yes, Starscream cut in. "The insecticon used a disciplinary measure just now, not some titillation device!"

Now, there were titters. "Silence!" Megatron roared.

The cawing started up again, a lot more audibly this time. Rumble looked despairingly at the machine. This was no good! He thought fast. Then he had an idea.

"Look Beak - if ya download that footage, give me a copy and erase it from yer own banks, freedom is yours. Right now!"

There was a pause; and then more cawing and squeaking indicated that Lazerbeak would do this.

"Good!" said Rumble. "Well slaggin' do it then!"

There was a whirring as the data was transferred. Outside, Megatron wrapped up the directions. "Anyone I haven't addressed is to go to their own quarters, where you will bar the door whilst Soundwave does a sweep. Bombshell, you may go with Soundwave. If you find our 'intruder' you may restrain him but no cerebroshells or other psychological claptrap. You will bring him to me! And that goes for everybody else. _Do I make myself clear?"_

Rumble waited until the transfer was complete, before unlatching the cassette deck. Relief thudded through him as he grabbed the copy. Never mind what was going on out there – his beloved, his _one and only_, was safe! Bee's honour was intact! More loud squawking issued forth. Rumble unlatched the other tape compartment.

At once, there was squawking and a flurry of wings in his face. Rumble felt a sharp pain in his right winglet. "Slagger!" he hissed at the bird. Why did she always have to peck bits out of him when she didn't get her own way?

But he had no time to get annoyed, because the door suddenly opened. "Rumble? Lazerbeak?" Rumble looked up to see the looming blue form of Soundwave, the insecticons beside him. The bird immediately fluttered on to the blue mech's shoulder, rubbing against his helm. He reached up to scratch her head.

Soundwave's optics went to Rumble's hand; and Rumble realized, to his horror, that he still had the tape in it. His creator eyed the tape. "Your intentions?"

Behind them, Rumble noted a more restrained exit from the room. Hook carried Ravage, an annoyed look on the medic's face, and Frenzy had joined them. Rumble glanced at the insecticons. Now they were up close again, the full impact of _just how much they gave Rumble the creeps_ hit home. And he didn't care how good the bug with the antlers was at titillating disciplinary thingywotsits.

The cassette attempted a smile. "I'm – uh – gonna go an' put this in a safe place!" he said, indicating the tape. "Then I'll check our quarters and wait there."

The bird cawed. The insecticons bristled. "If I might make a suggestion?" Bombshell said, "Kickback should accompany you."

A predatory gleam came into the cricket's optics, and Shrapnel hissed in approval. Rumble gaped. "Uh – I can manage it myself, thanks!" he said.

The insecticons looked at each other and a hissy, wicked sounding laughter issued forth.

"Soundwave?" Rumble said weakly.

But to his horror, Soundwave turned to him. "Rumble, you have failed to make a decision. You will proceed with the insecticon."

"What _- now? But we're in the middle of a pitspawned crisis!"_ was all Rumble could say.

* * *

_The Ark again ..._

/Mirage! Come in. COME IN! I need your HEELLPP!/ Bumblebee wailed down the com. But there was no reply. Instead, Bumblebee found himself pressed hard against the table as Gears came closer.

"C'mon!" Gears intakes were rasping. "How about a nice little kiss?"

Bumblebee could only look at him goggle opticed, shaking his head as, to his horror, a red hand found its way on to his chassis. "Always did think you had a nice little grill!" Gears chuckled.

Fingers ran along his bumper. Bumblebee shuddered. It was horrendous! And worse, he actually felt guilty! Because however obnoxious he found Gears, the red minibot had been_ like_ a cousin, and Bee was certain he had his best interests at spark, and that about the grill was really quite a nice thing to say. It was just that –

"I just don't fancy you!" Bumblebee gasped as Gears face loomed closer. "I – uh – I can't! I've got my optic on another!" And then, it was too much. With both hands, he shoved Gears firmly away.

For a moment, the red minibot merely looked disappointed. But then, he darkened. A scowl appeared on his face, a look very unlike what had been there when the Decepticons had reprogrammed him and very much like what was there a lot of the time. "Well, _pipsqueak,_ you know what?" he snarled angrily. I am your superior. And I_ order_ you to make me your first!"

"I can't!" Bumblebee gasped. "I promised Mirage!"

Gears went as black as thunder. "Oh – so that's the problem, is it?" he roared. "I heard Fancy Pants had been tryin' for a piece of the action! Cliffjumper obviously wasn't enough. Seems those insecticons didn't teach him enough of a lesson either!" and with that, he made a grab at Bee.

But the minibot was quick. He lunged sideways, shoving the table into Gears. The TV fell to the floor with a crash.

"Mirage has my best interests at spark!" he shouted.

"Mirage is history, pal! These are Prime's orders!"

Not wishing to believe those words, Bumblebee cowered in the corner. He glanced across the room, noticing that the door was not shut properly when Gears had come in.

Gears looked at the fallen TV. Then he seemed to relax. A soporific smile replaced the scowl. "Now look - I don't wanna be asking you to do this under orders!" he said. "Hell - I understand you're nervous. But you gotta like me just a little bit – hell – I was a real stud on Cybertron!"

He started towards Bee again. "C'mon – I don't mind the 'hard to get' thing. It's turnin' me on!"

That was it. Bee's ex-cousin was nearly upon him, all compact, tough red steel. Bee knew that his size belied his strength. If Gears actually got hold of him, he'd have no chance.

Bumblebee delayed no longer. Flinging himself at the door, he hauled it open and dived out, taking off up the corridor in a flash of yellow.

* * *

_And finally ..._

Mirage realized too late that he had misread the map. There were footsteps coming down the corridor. It didn't sound like Soundwave – but if they used their usual methods they'd be covering every centimetre of it to make sure he couldn't get past.

A dead end lay ahead, with five or six doors leading into what were obviously Soundwave and the cassettes' quarters. He had to go into one of those rooms. And he had to make a decision – now!

He looked at the doors. A larger, grander one than the others was formally shut with a 'no access' sign nailed firmly to the door. Must be Soundwave's. The next two were closed also – but the one beyond was wide open. Mirage crept up to it.

Obviously, this was Ravage's lair. There was no berth as such, but a large basket type affair strewn with Cat type things took up most of the room. Mirage saw half eaten toy cyber-mice, bowls of her special cat energon and frayed pieces of rope. Well this was no good! If Ravage was brought back here, she'd spot him straight away. Besides – he shuddered – it gave him the creeps.

The footsteps and voices came closer. They were arguing. Now, Mirage recognized one of the voices as most definitely belonging to that reprobate, Rumble. And the other? The other was clearly - an insecticon.

Mirage swallowed hard. He steeled himself, shutting out all thoughts of the cerebroshell incident. He'd gotten out of situations here before, and he'd get out of this one.

The door at the very end was ajar. Sprinting the final length, the spy pulled it open and slipped in.

…

_Thanks for reading. I should be able to update this fater now – the Bee and Rumble meeting draws closer!_


	7. Chapter 7

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

_**Warnings:** Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions. A bunch of randy Autobots, all after poor Bee!  
_

* * *

This chapter is ALL Autobot crack! A little longer than usual. Hope you enjoy :-)

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**~ Chapter 7 ~**

As a result of the Decepticons 'going to ground,' mechs enjoying 'time out' also filled the recreation room in the Ark.

A collection of Autobots lounged in comfortable chairs. On a table in the corner, a television blared - but most were not watching it. Instead, they read datapads, chatted or allowed themselves a rare 'nap.' Haphazardly strewn tables contained various paraphernalia, along with empty cubes and plates of half eaten snacks.

It was all testament to a well earned rest after so much 'con action for so long. It was also the means by which the Autobots had avoided too much running through their processors about what had become 'the unmentioned subject:' Bumblebee's 'first.'

On a table in roughly the centre of the room was a large roulette wheel, and it was around this that most of the furniture was angled. And now, Smokescreen was on his feet again, having stashed the not inconsiderable pile of credits he'd managed to accumulate from the day's main entertainment.

"Say," he smiled at them. "Anyone up for another spin?"

But they all shook their heads. It was late in the day, and they were nicely inebriated, some even thinking about recharge. And others were - to be honest - a little jaded at Smokescreen's apparent string of good luck, and certain it was more than this, but thought it best not to raise the issue. Easier to just relax and drift off ….

One mech, however, was not so soporific. Sunstreaker, particularly, had been eyeing Smokescreen's piles, and now he got to his feet, an angry expression on his handsome face. "It's a travesty!" he roared, his hands balling into fists.

A few of the Autobots sat up. And Sideswipe, of course, was on his feet in an instant. "Hey, Sunny!" he said in a soothing voice, laying a hand on his brother's arm. "C'mon now. We talked about this! Smokey's just – a lucky mech!"

There were murmurs, only some of which sounded like agreement, while Smokescreen looked a little sheepish. "Say, that's right! No hard feelings, huh Sun?" he ventured.

But Sunstreaker was not so easily pacified. "I'm not talkin' about that!" he roared.

He had their attention, now. He darkened, glowering. "I'm talkin' about the fact that I'm so full o'charge I'm sizzling, and that my spike feels like Megatron's fusion canon!" he growled.

"I'm _talkin'_ - about Bumblebee!"

….

Bumblebee had remembered just in time to pull his door shut, catching a glimpse of Gears' furious face just before the door slammed into it. Now, as he took off up the corridor, he activated his private locking mechanism.

A loud banging came from behind, amid shouts of: "Get your sorry aft back here …. that's an order ….!" Bumblebee winced. He was relieved, at least, that he hadn't knocked out his ex cousin. But it was good that the noises receded as he got further away.

But once he had gone a few hundred yards, the minibot slowed. He had a problem. Inside his codpiece, his new equipment jarred and rattled, sending out sharp stabs of pain. "Try and not to move around too much!" Ratchet had barked. "It don't do to subject it to too much stress before the first time!"

Bumblebee despaired. He was doing the opposite! Maybe he should comm Mirage again. But no – he was sure Mirage was still busy doing whatever he'd been doing before, and he'd sounded - well – a little irritated by the comm.

Besides, was he going to run to Mirage for everything? What about his 'independence?' Concentrating, Bumblebee managed to tighten down the locking gear. Encouraged, and thinking Mirage would be pleased with him for doing something he hadn't even been taught – and maybe less grumpy when he did comm him next – Bee hastened on.

Now - he must think what to do. He could not just charge directionlessly along! But this way, he was headed for the control room - exactly where Optimus Prime would be. And that was suddenly the best idea he'd had so far. Yes – of course! Optimus Prime was all 'goodliness' and 'understanding!' Bumblebee would simply explain to their leader that he'd made a mistake – and ask for Mirage's selection to be reinstated.

But he'd forgotten to turn off the secret minibot comm frequency! And now a familiar voice broke in, loud and furious: /BEE! When Prime finds out you disobeyed his orders you're goin' straight in the brig. And that ain't all …./

Bumblebee snapped it off, his optics widening in alarm. How could he even have thought it? One simply did not tell Optimus Prime he'd 'made a mistake.' However nice he was. Besides, if Prime changed his orders, he would lose 'face – and it would look like favouritism. And did many not already 'go on' that he was Prime's 'special little mech!'

No – there was nothing for it. Bumblebee would have to get out of the Ark. He would comm Spike. Yes, straight away! As he'd been going to before. Yes - that's what he would do!

Flipping off the Gears frequency, and activating the special one he shared with the human, Bumblebee took the fork in the corridor which led to the entrance. But as he rounded the corner, and before he could make the call, a surprised exclamation sounded, and an orange form leaped to one side. Bumblebee dodged himself, tripped, and fell on to his hands and knees.

"Hey Bee …." Gentle hands were helping him up. "Where's the fire, Grapple asked.

…..

"I'm sorry I'm sorry." Bee stammered. "Look I – uh – I'm late for an appointment." He felt instantly terrible about the lie.

Grapple laughed. "Oh I think it can probably wait," he said. "Hadn't you heard – Prime cancelled all appointments and gave everyone some R and R. It's all been happening in the rec room – not that it's my scene. I guess you might not have heard, though, because of your er … err …"

And then, the Crane was looking at Bumblebee's codpiece. Grapple's faceplates went a more reddish shade of orange. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he said.

But Bumblebee brightened. He'd always liked the crane. And now he was so close, Grapple was suddenly 'not bad' in other ways! Maybe they could go and hide somewhere, and Grapple could 'show him the ropes.' Then by the time Gears caught up, it would be too late.

He looked at Grapple's long, crafty fingers. Under his codpiece, components shifted. Bumblebee made a point of jutting it out. "Say - it's OK!" he said.

"Uh Bumblebee, of course I'm not interested in you - _in that way._ Not like some of those randy others. So you can relax on that score …."

Oh well, so much for that! Why did all the ones he wanted not want him? But Grapple's hand was on his arm, a gleam nevertheless in the crane's optics. "I wouldn't mind your opinion on something else, however!" he said.

"Uh – no worries …" Bumblebee looked anxiously around. He should get on his way – before somebody who knew he was confined to quarters appeared and told Grapple this. But he felt guilty now, as the crane was very nice, and Bumblebee shouldn't have just 'assumed' things.

Grapple appeared oblivious to his anxieties. From subspace, he was producing an intricately put together model. He held it up proudly. "It's a replica of the new improved solar power tower I've designed!" he said proudly.

Bumblebee thought, then, that he heard something in the distance. Was that a roar? And footsteps? "Uh – yeah!" he said, looking around again. "It's fabulous!"

Grapple put it on the floor and stood back, looking at it. "I know Prime's opinion!" he said, his voice taking on a 'strained' quality. "Especially after what happened with the Constructicons. But I can't stop myself!"

"Right!" The noises came again. Bumblebee imagined Gears roaring up the corridor with Brawn at his side. Alerts fritzed across his sensor net.

"But actually …" Grapple now also looked around. "What I really wanna know, Bee is ….." he leaned close. "Do you think Scrapper will like it?"

At that, Bumblebee's processor have a slight 'hitch. "What?"

Grapple looked disappointed. He sighed. "Yes I know," he said ruefully. "Its shameful! But you see - I've just always had a thing for big green mechs! Look – I only ask because you strike me as - discreet - Bumblebee!"

Did this mean that some Autobots did actually _do it_ with Decepticons? Was that why Grapple's mind _wasn't_ on Bee's new spike? For a fleeting moment, Bumblebee thought of the cassette with the piledrivers. But he had no time to ponder the matter further. There were more sounds – this time sounding like a commotion. It it was coming from the direction of the rec room.

"Yeah. I reckon he'll love it!" Bumblebee squeaked. "Sorry – gotta go!"

Grapple's optics glowed bright blue. "Really?" he said. "You see, I can't stop thinking about him …." But Bumblebee was already stepping over the model and taking off, ignoring Grapple's cry of: "But at least let me tell when you think I should give it to him!"

Bumblebee really didn't know the answer to that!

…

Back in the rec room, there was indeed unrest. "Now why'd ya have to bring up Bumblebee?" Seaspray rumbled throatily, his hand straying to his now heating groin. He was not the only one with this predicament. "Yeah Sunny!" Bluestreak scolded. "A whole day that I'd almost forgotten!"

Sideswipe sighed, shifting awkwardly to relieve his own pressurising appendage. "Yeah – why, Sunny?" he asked.

The golden warrior began to pace, angrily. "Keeping him locked up! Making his choices for him … getting Mirage to be his 'mentor' - its outrageous! Whatever happened to good old 'may the strongest crack the newbie?'"

Now there were sounds of agreement, and: 'Yeah's!' and 'It ain't right's!' "It could have been worse!" somebody said. "How?" somebody else wailed.

Smokescreen had been more than a little anxious at Sunstreaker's 'outburst.' Now he was relieved – too much so to have problems with his own equipment. Besides, he 'knew things.' And now he felt a little sorry for his fellow Autobots, as he could tell from the awkward stances and bulges, that they didn't. And now Sunny confirmed that they far from considered the 'quest' to be over.

Maybe they deserved some 'enlightenment.' Besides, a return to the distraction of good honest gambling would be good. As far as Smokey was concerned, the night was young.

"As it happens, I heard a rumour!" he said, loudly enough for them all to look at him and for Sunstreaker to stop pacing and stare at him.

"Notice there's no minibots with us today!" Standing up, he walked out among them. Sunstreaker glared at him. "Well – what of it?" he growled.

"I heard …" Smokescreen looked around the now interested set of optics. "That there were anomalies with the ancestry data. That 'one of them' is to be Bumblebee's first!"

There was silence. Several mechs looked at each other. Then there were horrified exclamations, and several cries of 'surely not!'

Sideswipe chuckled amiably. "Now come on Smokescreen!" he said. "Bumblebee's different. He ain't gonna want one of those little fraggers." But there was dirty laughter at that. "They ain't so little, believe me!" Blaster guffawed. A few others appeared to agree.

But Sunstreaker looked as though he might explode. "What'd I say would happen if they let Mirage on it?" he roared.

There was more agreement. "Hey – maybe it's a 'red herring!'" Trailbreaker suggested. "Maybe Mirage is in Bee's room 'coaching' him right now!" The others chortled, but there was now an angry quality to the laughter. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions!" Hound said. But it went ignored. "What's a herring?" somebody asked.

Sunstreaker moved so he was right in front of Smokescreen. "Yeah! Trailbreaker's got a point! I don't suppose you know where our esteemed intelligent agent is?" he snarled. Sideswipe put a hand on his arm, and Blaster rose to do the same, whilst the others now looked nervous. But the red and blue Datsun remained relaxed.

"That episode with the wheelchair kid? It got recorded," he said. "I heard a rumour that Mirage is – uh – doing a little damage contro!" Sunny still glared at him, but there were sounds of interest from the others. "Heard a rumour – just a rumour, mind – that he went to the Nemesis." And then, Smokescreen grinned. "Now I'm starting at twenty to one: That he ain't doin' Bumblebee, and he's back within the cycle!"

Now the others muttered between themselves, as serious consideration was given to this. Arm compartments were searched, and credits appeared. They were, indeed, pleased to be distracted again – although the name 'Bumblebee' was heard several more times.

Sunny, however, was less easily pacified. Raising his fist, he brought it down heavily on the back of the chair Perceptor was seated on, making the poor scientist – who had been trying to study datapads and just mind his own business - rise in alarm. There was a splintering sound and chunks of wood hurtled across the room.

"That's bullshit!" Sunstreaker roared. "Why send Mirage? We coulda all just gone and levelled the joint!"

Sideswipe's hand was on his arm again, and now Sunstreaker was being pulled over to one side. "Sunny – c'mon now!" Sideswipe hissed. "We talked about this too!" he looked over at Bluestreak. "Look, why don't we just grab Blue an' turn in?" he said. "Forget about this whole 'Bee' thing?"

But Sunstreaker shook him off. "I ain't done yet!" he growled.

…

A loud 'bang' made Bumblebee's spark flare in alarm. He quickened his pace, relieved that the entrance was only just around the next corner. But apart from his now tingling equipment - the effects of Grapple's revelations having started these up again with curious intensity - a new problem confronted the yellow minibot. A very large problem; with three horns and a tail.

The Dinobot had his back to him. With some relief, Bumblebee recognized the probable source of some of the noises. But with his bulk, the triceratops entirely blocked the corridor. A large armoured tail lashed from side to side.

He looked, to Bumblebee's dismay, to be in his usual state of 'good humour. "Slag!" mumbled Bumblebee to himself. Meaning not just the Dinobot's name.

There was nothing for it. Bumblebee would just have to try and appease him. At least all the Dinobots liked him 'Dino-sitting.' He always gave them treats, and played games, and scritched parts of them, and played 'tickles.' Perhaps he could do that now.

Bumblebee cleared his throat. "Er – hi!" he said.

Slag whipped around in his direction with surprising speed, and the Dinobot bristled, his optics flaring. He snorted, and a plume of smoke puffed out of his nose. He looked far from 'appeased.' Bumblebee despaired. If only he's brought some treats! Had he not vowed to keep some on his persons at all times, in the event of encounters like this? "You – uh – wanna play a game?" he suggested.

But the Dinobot's anger seemed to evaporate. He made a decidedly pleased sounding noise. And now he was transforming - and walking towards him. Bee relaxed. Until he looked at the Dinobot's face; for there he saw - oh no, surely it couldn't be - the same kind of lecherous leer that Bumblebee had seen on Gears face. And now, so many others.

"Little Bumblebee!" Slag growled. "Hey you new popped mech. Me Slag LIKE new popped mechs!"

Oh Primus - this was one possibility Bee had never even considered! And he also felt wracked with guilt for doubting Ratchet and Mirage's wisdom. No wonder they'd kept him locked up!

Now Slag was advancing, his hands in front of him. The fingers waggled, as though Slag couldn't wait to get them into – well Bee knew exactly what!

A shudder of horror went through the minibot, the only positive outcome being, once again, the absolute cessation of feelings under his codpiece. He held up his hands in defence. "Noooo!"

….

"I understand," Ironhide was saying. "They make my circuits sizzle. But Prime's got his reasons. We gotta go by his book!" he had just entered the rec room, following a most worried sounding call from Perceptor.

Sideswipe was looking gratefully at him. Sunstreaker had calmed down a little, but the golden twin still simmered. "Still doesn't solve the issue o'Bumblebee!" he growled. "Or my spike – knowing there's a newly 'popped' mech out there for the picking! I mean, I'm not saying Blue ain't good. But Bumblebee …. rawrr darn ….." at this point, he had to turn away.

Ironhide rolled his optics. He was about to say he'd had quite enough of the small yellow one and his 'popping,' and that it was sad enough when not even superior officers could keep themselves under control, let alone esteemed warriors. But the door burst open, so hard that it nearly flew from its hinges. A small red figure strode furiously in, followed by another.

The other Autobots, who'd returned their attention to a delighted Smokescreen now Ironhide appeared to have things under control, looked up in alarm. "Now what!" groaned the veteran.

If they thought Sunny was 'getting mad earlier, it was nothing on how Cliffjumper, ordinarily cantankerous enough anyway, looked now. He put his hands on his hips, a picture of small red fury.

"Where is he? He yelled. Even Sunstreaker took a step backward.

Bluestreak, who had had a few more 'grades, decided to be helpful. "Bumblebee? He's in his room!" he turned to the others. "Now we were just saying - weren't we, guys, about how wonderful it was that one of the minibots …" he stopped when he caught sight of Smokescreen frantically running his fingers along his mouth, telling him to 'zip it.'

But Cliffjumper didn't hear it all. "I don't mean Bumblebee!" he yelled. "I mean Gears! Where's Gears?" He started to pace the room, looking around as though he expected to see his fellow minibot crouched in a corner somewhere. His gaze fell on the roulette wheel. Smokescreen and the others shrugged.

"GEARS!" Cliffjumper wandered into the store room annex next to the TV.

Windcharger now spoke up. "I'm sorry about this!" he said. "He's a bit upset. Gears is to be Bumblebee's first! I mean, I don't mind so much, cos - well - I still think of Bee as a cousin. But you know what Cliffjumper gets like if he can't get first pick at something!"

"You're too accepting Windie! This is bullshit!" Came Cliffjumper's voice. "Gears! Come out and face me like a minibot!""

It was Sunstreaker who again strode forward. "Cliffjumper! He ain't in here!" he snarled.

The minibot reappeared. And now the golden twin's face was darkening again. "Uh – Sunny …" Sideswipe began.

"No – this is something we_ didn't_ talk about!" Sunstreaker roared. He turned to Cliffjumper, fists balling. "You're darned right it shouldn't be Gears. But who says it should be YOU?"

Cliffjumper turned so red he virtually glowed. Even from a few feet away, the others could feel the heat coming off him. "Because I'm a minibot!" he yelled. "And anyway, who else should it be?" His own hands balled into fists. "Surely not YOU?"

"Why not?" roared Sunny.

"Can't you see I'm not in the mood for jokes!" Cliffjumper snarled back, puffing out his bumper.

Then, Cliffjumper was advancing towards the much bigger golden mech, Windcharger's cries of 'no Cliffie!' going unheeded. And Sideswipe tried to hang on to Sunny, but it was to no avail. There was a splintering of concrete, and a great groove appeared in the floor where Sideswipe's heels were dragged along.

"Put em up!" yelled Cliffjumper.

"No problem!" growled Sunstreaker.

The Autobots had fallen silent. But Smokescreen grinned delightedly. "Well – the yellow one's big, but the red one's angrier. Taking bets right now on who pulls this one off!" he proclaimed.

There was pause; followed by a fumbling to get credits, as the two mechs began to circle. Ironhide -who had watched the whole sequence in the hopeless hope that he would not, in fact, have to do anything - decided enough was enough. Walking into the centre, he pulled out his very large canon. "Now if you'd all just CALM DOWN ….."

But the door opened again. And this time all the Autobots jumped, and even Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker drew back. For it was Prowl who strode crisply in, closely followed by Jazz. Prowl looked from one mech to the next, to the next.

"Autobots!" he snapped! "Your attention, please! I have an announcement!"

…..

"Now c'mon, Slag! Look at the size of you and the size of me!"

But the Dinobot only grinned wider. "Me Slag don't mind size! Me Slag like small popped bot!"

By chance, Bumblebee noticed an alcove at the side of the corridor, usually full of surveillance gear but today, conveniently empty. If he pressed himself at the back, it might make it harder for Slag to get him. He edged into it - just as heavy tramping feet noises sounded, and around the corner came more Dinobots - Grimlock , with Sludge at his side.

Well that was 'it,' thought Bumblebee. If they all got hold of him he would have to call for help. And not Mirage or Spike, but somebody here! Meanwhile, he shrank back, fumbling with an arm compartment in which he now recalled was a small handgun. It wouldn't do any of them any damage. But it might give him time – to get past them and to the entrance.

But Grimlock and Sludge evidently hadn't even noticed him. They came to a halt. "Wheeljack got special job, you come with us, Slag!" Grimlock said.

Slag folded his arms. "Me Slag no wanna come. Me Slag want popped minibot!"

Grimlock sounded cross. "Wheeljack say no popped minibot!" he growled. "Me Grimlock no have time to look for popped minibot! Wheeljack say he got other treat for Dinobots. Me Grimlock in charge. Me Grimlock say we go to Wheeljack - NOW!"

Slag went to protest again. But Grimlock strode forward, and Bumblebee watched as he grabbed Slag by the scruff of the neck. They tramped past, Grimlock and Sludge - to Bee's overwhelming relief – dragging the protesting Slag and ignoring his cries of: "But he Bumblebee, he here! Slag see new popped mech right here!"

Relieved, Bumblebee stuck his head out of the alcove. But only for a split second – for more footsteps echoed, and around the corner came none other than Prowl and Jazz.

The minibot froze. 'Game up!' He thought. This really is 'it.' He thought of comming Mirage again. But what could Mirage do? No – he simply had to face his fate.

But the two special ops team members appeared to have other things on their minds. As they passed the alcove, Bee saw that Prowl had his arm around Jazz – and then his optics widened at the sight of Jazz's hand firmly on Prowl's aft. A little further along, Jazz made a grab for the tactician, pushing him against the wall. "It's all over – its gonna be Gears!" Jazz was saying. "An' it's left me horny as the crack o'dawn!. You know I like doin' it in these kinda places, Prowlie …."

Bumblebee froze. All it would take was for one of them to turn their head and they would see him right there! But no – Jazz was kissing Prowl passionately – and now Bee's other problem returned with a vehemence. As pressure began to rise inside his codpiece, the minibot concluded that this really had not been an easy day in his life.

Bumblebee squirmed in the alcove, looking at Jazz's oozing curves, and warring with an intense urge to run out and say: 'Hey! Gears didn't get me. I'm still up for grabs!' But no – Prowl was too much a stickler for duty to allow that. He'd be marched straight back to Gears! If they didn't arrest him for 'peeping' at them.

With an effort, Bumblebee managed to retract his spike; and then, to his relief, Prowl was pushing Jazz away. "Jazz, please! We have to inform the others!" Prowl said crisply. "Think about our image!" Jazz laughed. "I am thinkin' about yours. Too much!" And he kissed him again. But only briefly; and then they were on their way.

Just before they vanished from sight, Bumblebee heard Mirage's name mentioned and wondered again about the spy. But there was no time to comm him now. All efforts absolutely had now to go into getting out of the Ark.

Ignoring his throbbing equipment, Bumblebee sprinted the last hundred yards or so and then. there was the exit dead ahead. But it was closed! And, worse, stopping in front of it, evidently putting yet another layer of detectors in as if there weren't enough already, was Red Alert.

There was nothing for it. Shameful though this was. Pulling out the handgun, Bumblebee advanced on the security chief.

…..

There was now a tense silence in the rec room. "A decision has been made - about Bumblebee!" Said Prowl. It has been decided that a fellow minibot will best suit his needs, and this is why – er - Gears has been selected for that purpose."

A mumbling followed, interspersed with comments of "Yeah, we know!"

Prowl's optic ridges furrowed. "You do?" he said.

"Yeah!" Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper said together; and then looked at each other and glowered. It was only through a great effort that they had managed to keep off each other since Prowl had entered the room.

"Yeah, they know!" Ironhide spoke up. "It was on account o'Gears being 'the one' that these two here – had a little difference of opinion!"

"I see …." Prowl looked flustered. Well in that case – I have some other news. There was an – incident – as you know – at the Minibot Presentation Parade. Some footage was taken …"

"Oh we know about that too! Bluestreak piped up. "Mirage has gone to the Nemesis …." The others nodded in agreement.

Prowl's normally composed equilibrium was now sadly _un_composed. "Well I'm wondering if there's anything you don't know!" he snapped.

"Yeah!" Jazz spoke up now. "And I'm wondering how you found out!"

All heads turned towards Smokescreen, who had, to his great relief, managed to conceal the fight 'takings' whilst Prowl was talking. The Datsun shrugged. "Just a rumour!" he said.

Prowl now noticed the roulette wheel. He looked at Smokescreen sternly. There will be words!" he said.

"Anyway," Jazz went on, "Mirage has not returned. And here's th'good news all. It's lookin' like this is the end of our ceasefire with the Decepticons!"

The cheer which went up was almost deafening. But it was cut short. For Windcharger was suddenly yelling for everyone to be quiet. And this was so unusual, coming from the shy and rather retiring minibot, that everybody instantly took notice.

His optics widened. "Gears just commed!" he said. "He said Bumblebee's – escaped! A little while ago!" A gasp went up, then there was silence as Windcharger evidently listened some more. "He's stuck in Bee's room!" he said incredulously. "He says he was too ashamed to ask us to get him out, but now he's got no choice. Bee jammed the door!"

Mouths fell open as everyone looked at each other aghast. But they had no time to reflect, for even as Windcharger finished talking, the emergency voice-comm blared from the wall with the frantic voice of Red Alert. "Autobots, help!" the security chief wailed. "I have come under attack. It's Bumblebee. He's gone raving mad! He threatened to kill me! He's left the ArK"

And now a clamour broke out. All this news at once – it was just too much to handle. Prowl held up a hand. "Autobots please! I'm sure there's an explanation for all this. We know how Red can overreact …."

"I'm not overreacting!" Red Alert wailed.

"Anyway, the point is – the Decepticons …." Prowl tried to continue.

But now there was a new excitement in the ranks, a bubbling over of hope previously thought vanquished. "The hell with the Decepticons!" Sunstreaker roared. "Bee ain't mad – we all know what'll sort him out. And it obviously ain't Gears!" For once, Cliffjumper didn't appear to disagree. "May the best mech win!" he roared.

Any further attempts by Prowl to regain order were drowned out as there was a rush for the door. "Autobots please!" he cried. And then the tactician saw, to his dismay, that Jazz was among the throng. The black and white mech turned at the door. "Y'know what I always say, Prowlie!" he grinned, wickedly. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!"

Prowl considered this for a brief moment. "You're right!" he said. Before taking off after them in long strides.

…..

Once outside, Bumblebee transformed, taking off up the rough desert surface in a cloud of dust. And now, he commed Spike. After all, what else was there to do? After all that had just transpired, he was more than just a wanted newly popped mech. He was a criminal! on a par with the Decepticons. He would be court-martialled - and probably shot!

Bumblebee didn't know what Spike could do about the now miserable state of affairs, and part of him felt terrible for even involving the human – especially after so long since he'd commed him. And worse, uppermost in Bumblebee's mind was a need even greater than that of telling the human everything. The need, oh the burning necessity – something he absolutely must do before it was 'all over'- he must use his new gear. At least once.

To his relief, Spike answered straight away. "

/Bee! Where are ya?/ he chirped, delightedly. /I've been chewing myself up with worry. What the hell went on at that parade?/

Bumblebee crashed his gears as he negotiated the sharp bend which led on to the bitumen track to the town where Spike lived. /Spike I gotta see you!/ he wailed. /I'm so sorry for what went down. I gotta explain. I need you!/

Now Spike sounded worried. /Say - calm down, Bumblebee!/ he said. /I'll meet you at the south canyon, OK? I'll get my Dad to give me a lift!/

/No!/ Bumblebee howled. /No Dads! I gotta hide somewhere! I'm headed for the warehouse!/

Spike would know where that was. He had to know. It was a deserted building on the outskirts where they had rendezvoused before. It wouldn't serve as a hiding place for long. But the others - who surely were after him by now - would, indeed, head first for the south canyon. The warehouse would be a temporary refuge.

/Sure thing, Bee! Say - we'll go to Chip's place!/ Spike was saying. And now he was breathless; he must be running.

/_Noooo!_/ Bumblebee yelled, feeling his temperature rise to dangerous limits as his speed rose to a hundred and eighty, and the two hundred miles an hour. He winced as pain in his 'equipment' overrode arousal again. /Chip must hate me. After what happened!/

/He doesn't, Bee!/ Spike reassured him. /He's been as worried as me!/

Bumblebee supposed this was something. /Well - tell him to cut off all connections with Teletraan one!/ he squeaked, cringing as he overtook several vehicles and hoping fervently none of them was a police car. That would be all he needed!

/Geez - that's a tall order, Bumblebee!/ Spike said.

/You have to!/ squeaked the yellow minibot.

/I'll do it, OK? I'll do it!/ Spike yelled back, puffing.

And now, as Bumblebee approached the warehouse, he saw Spike running up. The human paused to get his breath. And now he was smiling and waving. /Spike, get inside!/ Bumblebee yelled. /This ain't the usual kinda situation!/

Even as he said it there was a roar in the distance. A familiar roar. Which usually would have been oh so welcome but at this point in time, filled the minibot with nothing but complete dread. Autobots' engines. En masse.

"It's OK, Bee" Spike called out as he skidded to a halt. "I know y'like to be independent an' all, but I couldn't let ya do it. The Decepticons won't get you. I called the Autobots!"

Transforming, Bee looked at him in despair. "You don't understand!" he wailed. "They're who I gotta hide from!"

….

_Next chapter: How can Mirage aid this situation from his own predicament on the Nemesis?_

_Thanks all for reading. Reviews always welcome ;-)_


	8. Chapter 8

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

_**Warnings:** Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions. Applies to robosex and human sex.  
_

* * *

In which Bee tries to find his 'perfect match' and Rumble finds an unexpected ally ...

* * *

**~ Chapter 8 ~**

_On the Nemesis – _

Even though Rumble was trying to walk slowly, he seemed to be getting to his quarters far too fast.

Beside him, Kickback bristled, all charm and twitching antennae and good looks. Rumble had to admit he could see why this particular cyber-specimen was so successful at getting what he wanted in the Decepticon ranks. But slag it! Insecticons were their tastes, not his!

Instead, the more Kickback itched to get his antennae into – well it was very obvious what the slagger wanted to get them into - the more Rumble reeled inside. Why the frag had Soundwave _encouraged_ this?

But the imperative in his creator's tone, as he cut in on comm, was unmistakeable: /Proceed to immediate interface. With Insecticon subject. /

Rumble despaired. This was catastrophic! He had to try and 'get through' to Soundwave somehow.

/Look - Sounders, the search'll be useless without me … / he tried to say.

/No arguments, Rumble! Megatron fears for another – _bungle._ Status – _not amused._ Incurring his wrath – _unacceptable! _Rectification of problem_ - must be immediate!/  
_

"It can't be far now!" the Insecticon purred in his charming little voice.

Snapping off the comm, Rumble grunted. Hunching up his shoulders, he stumped along in a way which he hoped made his sentiments clear. He thought of Bumblebee, and his spark filled with pain. As if he didn't have little enough chance with the minibot as it was! Bumblebee's first time would be a 'delicate' event. As if he'd even _look_ at Rumble if he thought an Insecticon had had a go.

And it was then that Rumble felt his programming shift, and strange sensations rocking his processor. He was not doing this! And he didn't care what Megatron or Soundwave or any other slaggin' con wanted. He was in love! There was only one in the Universe for him - and only one possible course of action right now: he was losing the bug. As a matter of priority.

Rumble's step faltered a little as an unaccustomed queasiness swept over him – and it wasn't because of Kickback. He had never before openly defied Soundwave.

Well, there had never been a 'situation' – _like this_ before, he thought, frowning as his resolve hardened. Besides, had he not read some scrap somewhere that 'love conquers all?' Yeah! Well it could conquer Soundwave's dumb suggestions here. If Rumble could just escape back into his room - without the bug - he would put the tape somewhere and everything else would fall into place.

With any luck he'd be back in the briefing room in no time anyway. Knowing Mirage, he was long gone – and it was only microseconds before every Decepticon would be summoned back to hear the leader roar: "and just what the Hell were you fools doing?" in the wake of which, hopefully, his little act of rebellion would pass unnoticed, and he could figure out a plan to solve his 'problem' with who he wanted to solve it with.

...

_Still on the Nemesis, in Rumble's room –_

As the footsteps grew closer, the Insecticon's hissing intakes were clearly audible. Mirage looked around the room. He was amazed to see such a miserable little hovel. Cold and smelly, one wall was damp – not surprising seeing as how there was a crack on the far side along the ceiling seam, through which water oozed. Mirage watched as a crab made its way slowly across the wall. He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed in Soundwave. He would have thought his old mentor would have at least provided better for his own creations.

But there was no time to think of it - the voices were right outside the door. "Look Kickie …" Rumble was saying. "It's not that bugs ... I mean - _Insecticons - _ain't my thing. It's just that - well, mech - we have kinda got a _situation_ here. I got responsibilities!"

This evidently did not deter Kickback. "Now look - I may not have _all_ Shrapnel's talents," he cooed. "But apart from the lightning, there isn't much he can do with his antlers that I can't do with my antennae. Its true. I swear on the Hives of Alcyone!"

Mirage shivered, memories of spidery little fingers and delightful little bursts of current invading his processor. But he pulled himself together, as usual shocked at himself. Primus forbid that the Autobots ever find out that the reason he squirmed so much over the whole cerebroshell episode was not out of loathing at the memory, but because he'd _enjoyed_ it so much!

But there seemed no such prospect with the cassette. There was the sound of metal scraping on metal, followed by a small 'slapping sound' and the Insecticon saying: "Ouch!"

"Look, Kickie – I'm sorry …" Rumble was saying. "I just need to kinda _psych myself up, _see_?_ So I can do the whole - uh - interface thing justice, if ya know what I mean! Just gimme a minute. OK?"

Mirage continued his inspection, looking at the floor. There was junk everywhere! Nevertheless, his optics fell on a data-pad, over the top screen of which extremely poor handwriting sprawled. His optic ridges furrowed in puzzlement. The item caught his attention - not because there was anything surprising about it, but because out of the sprawl,_ right there_, he could make out words. Rather _unexpected_ words. The words: '_Ode to Bumblebee,' _to be precise._  
_

The spy squinted, magnifying the subject matter. His optics widened in amazement. The words were followed, not by the barrage of foul language about 'Autobozos' and 'slagheads' and 'sissies' which it surely had been bound to do, but instead, with what appeared to be - oh surely not, Mirage must be seeing things - _poetry,_ and words of - _love?_

Amazed, Mirage reached down and picked up the pad. As his super-fast processor quickly analyzed the contents of the pad, his optics became wider. "Well I'll be Primus darned!" he muttered.

The spy's spark flickered with a curious excitement. How incredible it was, the way the universe seemed to work at times - so that just when you thought a situation was totally screwed, things landed in your lap. For here - incredibly, impossibly – there _seemed_ to be a way in which Mirage might solve at least one of his problems.

And the wider implications were even better. For even though it was probably the worst poetry Mirage had ever read in his life, and it was unquestionably crude, there was an innocent sincerity which left him feeling strangely moved. He could not remember the last time he even _read_ Cybertronian poetry; and if Rumble could do this – _Rumble,_ of all mechs - well, was it not irrevocable proof that the Decepticons were _not_ always the bunch of sparkless blockheads the Autobots made them out to be?

The racer's spark warmed as a delighted smile crept on to his faceplates. Of course, Rumble may have gotten this from somewhere else. But Mirage didn't think so; and If he was right, then he may not have to conceal some of his 'friendships' nearly as much as he had. And how pleased some others would be! Mirage could hardly wait to see the smile on the orange crane's face.

There were muffled noises outside, followed by a dull thud. "Gerroff!" shouted the cassette. And then, the door shot open.

Quickly, Mirage retreated to a back corner of the room, checking that the electro disruptor concealed both him – and the pad – completely.

...

_At the Warehouse ..._

The warehouse moved in the wind, the roar of Autobot engines still audible over the creaking of its rickety structure. "But – they're the _Autobots!_ It can't be _that_ bad!" Spike was saying, as the engines drew closer. "Look – just tell me quickly about it. When they get here, I'll do the talking! I'm sure we can sort this out ..."

But Bumblebee had already transformed, his engine revving wildly. A door flew open to reveal his pink seats. "Spike I'm telling ya. This ain't like that. Now get in – please – we gotta roll out. I'll explain on the way!"

With a sigh, Spike scrambled in. Before he even had time to put on his seatbelt, the wind was knocked out of him as Bumblebee took off, headed for the warehouse door.

_Oh man,_ did Bumblebee even know where he was going? Spike did not think he had ever seen his friend so 'strung out.' Not even that time when he, Spike, got turned into a robot. "Go out the left back exit and you'll see a laneway," he said, hanging on as the yellow car bounced erratically across the yard. "Go down it, and then straight across. There's a maze of alleys at the back of Chip's suburb. They'll never find us in there!"

Chip! He hadn't even commed Chip! Spike tried the frequency. A beeping sound told him his friend was busy. Darn it! Well never mind, they'd go there anyway. It was the best place, whatever was going on - he had to sort Bee out somehow. And Chip was good like that. Yes – Chip approached Transformers in a 'logical' way, thus appealing to their 'robot-ness' as opposed to the 'emotional' side of their natures.

He'd even analyzed what had happened at the parade 'logically,' concluding very that what had hit him was Decepticon shrapnel, and that one of the Autobots had been too embarrassed about its presence to reveal its existence – a theory later confirmed. There really was no need for Bee to think Chip 'must hate him.' Even his friend's head was pretty much healed - although he did still have a bandage around it.

As they wove their way through the network, the sounds of the Autobots were soon gone, drowned out by factory noises all around from the looming industrial buildings. Bumblebee seemed to relax - just a little.

"Don't you think its time you told me what's happening?" Spike seized the opportunity to say.

Bumblebee let out a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "But its kinda - _complicated."_

…

_Back on the Nemesis ….._

Rumble shot through the door, his processor in a whirl. What did he just do? Soundwave was gonna kill him! The cassette's energon chamber lurched – but then he thought of Bumblebee and his spark pounded with resolve. Yeah! The hell with Soundwave!

Besides, one touch from the Insecticon, and the creepy horror which jangled like ice through his circuits and Rumble had decided had no problem in showing Kickback what the hell he thought of Megatron's 'orders' too!

And he hadn't hit the Insecticon hard. Just enough that he could get through the door and then slam it in his face. But the little fragger was fast – and resilient. Instead of falling down, Kickback cackled delightedly, darting in after Rumble before he could so much as raise a servo.

Well, there was nothing for it but to take things a stage further. Steeling himself, Rumble gave the command which would prime his piledrivers. But then, things happened very fast ...

Kickback was barely through the door, when he seemed to 'seize.' His optics widened in surprise and then, for a split second, a wicked grin appeared on his faceplates and his wings strummed hard. "Mirage …" he muttered. "Nice ..." Before his optics glazed over, wings freezing as he dropped to the floor.

Rumble gaped, the realization that he was not alone in here and who he was not alone with careening in – microseconds before he was grabbed. And then, before he could even move, he felt warm metal hard against his back as a hand closed over his mouth as the tape fell from his grasp.

"I believe you have a partiality to a certain Autobot minibot?" said a smooth voice.

Rumble struggled, trying to bring his hands up and at the same time activate his piledrivers. But there was a click and a sharp pain in his wrist, closely followed by every one of his locomotor systems seizing.

"Sorry," Mirage said. "Little trick I learned at the Trion Academy. But don't worry. It's only an override. Not an interface."

Rumble tried anew to struggle, and couldn't. He tried to yell, but he couldn't move his mouth to shape any words. All that came out was: _"Unnnggggrrrhhh …."_

"Now, let's see …. " Mirage said in that slaggin' infuriating Towers drawl which never changed. "Bumblebee - apparently - makes your circuits 'sizzle,' other parts of your anatomy 'fizzle,' and your spark 'ignite' when you are in combat?"

Wildly, Rumble rolled his optics. To his horror _– his complete and utter horror_ – he saw that that Mirage was removing his invisibility device, and that he had in his materializing hand the datapad. _The_ datapad! The one his entire spark had gone into. The one which outpoured of his love in a way no other Decepticon had ever done before!

"_Ungggrrrhhh!"_ Oh how inadequate that was! Oh how he wanted to call Mirage all the names in the universe he could think of. And even then, none of the extremely colorful terminology in his processor right now would have even come close to how he felt about the snotty, sneaky despicable upper crust aft!

"And – if I understand this correctly – Bumblebee makes your circuits go like 'goo' and you stumble in darkness without him, even prepared to risk the wrath of Megatron just to be with him?" Mirage was going on.

Rumble seethed. He tried again to activate his piledrivers, but they remained firmly locked down. He thought of Soundwave – not that he really wanted to, after the slagger's unfeeling and horrendous orders, but hell, this was an emergency! But even his comm seemed to have somehow been disabled.

Summoning all his limited powers of concentration, Rumble managed just to override Mirage's paralysis program enough to move his mouth. But whilst he meant to yell: "Frag off!" accompanied by a string of the aforethought expletives, he found, to his surprise, that what came out was: "If you do anythin' to hurt Bee, you're slaggin' dead!"

Mirage's grip relaxed; and Rumble felt just the smallest amount of sensation trickle back to his locomotor systems. The spy chuckled – but it wasn't unkind. "I have to be honest Rumble, I can't see your poetry ever appearing in the Master Arts Archives of Cybertron," Mirage said. "But I can see why you wrote it, and now your sentiments are obvious. I feel – touched."

With the little bit of strength back, Rumble struggled again. "I don't want it in the slagging master whatever!" he seethed. "An' if you ever show that to anyone, or take the piss out of it_,_ you're history! _So_ history - you posh pile of scrap metal!"

It occurred to Rumble that this might not be the wisest thing he could say, given his present circumstances. But Mirage seemed unfazed. "I have no intention of doing any such thing!" the spy said. "I propose instead - to make a deal!"

"A deal?" Rumble snarled. "What deal? Who d'you think you are? Swindle?"

The hand was removed from Rumble's mouth, and then he was being turned around to face Mirage. He felt the wrist connection drop out - yet the spy's grip was like iron, and his optics glittered very blue - in a way which made Rumble slightly regret his little tirade. Kickback's body, still motionless, caught his optic. He swallowed, hard.

But Mirage's finely chiseled face was sincere. "I'm serious!" He was saying. "I mean a deal where I _honor_ my end of the bargain. You get me out of here and I will give you back your systems, spare you, _and_ give you your spark's desire. Now how does that sound?"

For just a moment, Rumble believed that Mirage was serious. But then – _naaa!_ That was ridiculous! The pitspawned, stuck up Autobot was just using him –and his delicate sensitivities – to get out of here. And in the most despicable way!

Rumble figured he'd mustered just enough strength to give flattening the spy a serious try. But just then, his proximity sensors detected a familiar energy signature.

"You're too late!" he sneered. "Sounders is on his way!"

...

_On the way to Chip's place ..._

It was not Spike's imagination that Bumblebee's cab was considerably hotter – and the heater wasn't on. Despite feeling a little guilty, now he knew understood the tragedy of the parade, Spike found himself excited – and not in the same way as when The Autobots completed one of their periodic defeats of the Decepticons.

No – the human was excited in the same way he had felt when Wheeljack took him on one side one day when the Autobots were out fighting and told him all about interfacing, and connections and overloads and even replication sequences. Which was roughly the same 'excited' he'd felt in the school biology class a few years back, and then the school dance.

But Wheeljack had also told him never to mention the subject in front of Bee. "He hasn't reached that time, see!" Wheeljack had said. "He should have, in my view. I told Ratchet he oughtta have a thorough overhaul, let me see what the problem was. But he wouldn't hear of it."

"No good will come of it, I'm telling ya!" Wheeljack had gone on. "But in the meantime – its kinda delicate with the little fragger!"

Obviously, all that had changed. And Wheeljack had been right! But Bumblebee had been relieved to talk about it, and now seemed more relaxed. "You know about how we – connect?" he'd said. "Well darn it Spike! I'd have told you before. I didn't think humans got 'into' that kinda thing!"

Spike was tempted to explain the function of that part of his anatomy Bee had gawped at the day he forgot his trunks at the dam, and how after the 'talk' with Wheeljack he had realized that humans and Transformers were really quite similar after all – in some ways. But now did not really seem the right time. Besides, he had not forgotten that Bumblebee's suitors were probably prowling the nearby streets right now,"

"Which way now!" Bee said, sounding anxious again. "I can't pick any signatures, but can you hear anybody? I tell you Spike – it's not that I don't think all the Autobots are amazing. But I just don't wanna do it with Gears – or any of them. I want it to be – special."

There was not a sign of another Transformer. Spike gave new directions, his heart going out to his friend. For he remembered well how he'd gotten a hard on at that school dance, and how he was surrounded by tittering teenage girls, who were all telling him how 'mature' he was for his years. Panic had descended, Spike had departed, only to be told off later for not taking his cousin Astoria anyway. Which would certainly have 'dampened' matters somewhat - even if she was a great deal richer than he and he would ever be.

And how many years now had Sparkplug been eagerly trying to match him up with Astoria? Even after the Powerglide episode he went 'on' about it. Even though - Primus forbid - Spike was hard pushed to imagine a girl who turned him on less. And for him, too, there was one girl at that dance who had been 'special, but she had always been distant with him - even now - and Spike had never known whether it was because of the unspeakable bulge in his pants that night or because he just didn't do it for her the way she did for him ...

He patted Bee's dashboard, full of new understanding. "Say, it's OK!" he said. "I kinda see what you mean, and I can see why Gears doesn't do it for you. But say – Bee – it's the Autobots! There must be one of them kinda – frizzles your circuits?"

A shudder went through Bumblebee. "Don't say stuff like that, Spike!" he wailed. "Not at a time like this! I've been keeping the lid on my urges whilst I've been telling y'all this, and I seem to have been in a bit of a 'lull.' But I really don't wanna get turned on again!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Spike removed his hand. Much as the whole thing intrigued him, he did not really wish to be traveling in his friend if the 'urges' came on.

"It's hard to explain," Bumblebee rattled along. "It's weird! The only ones I've gotten worked up about don't want me and I'm having some really weird thoughts about who my 'first' might be, and Mirage was supposed to be getting someone, but now he's gone off on this mission and I'm gonna have to do it soon and I don't know who its gonna be!"

They were entering the suburb where Chip lived and the factories and industrial buildings gave way to small detached houses which sped past as Bumblebee crunched gears.

Spike thought again of the dance. At least seeing that girl - no, _Carly,_ he thought fondly - had made him see at an early age exactly what he'd wanted. Even though he still had no real hope of getting it - no matter how good friends they had become and how much they had in common - at least he still _knew_, and hadn't been left to wonder of there would ever be _anyone._ A moment of melancholy descended upon the ordinarily cheerful human. He felt so sorry for Bee.

/Spike?/ It was Chip's voice. /There's a missed call on the com. Wassup, buddy?/

Spike realized he'd gotten so 'into' he and Bee's romantic predicaments that he'd forgotten all about coming Chip back. But now, he had an idea.

/Chip? Look this is – uh – real secret human Autobot stuff. _Prime's_ secret orders. I'm bringing Bumblebee to – uh – stay at your place for a bit. And in the meantime I want you to consult with Teletraan one and see who out of all the Autobots would make his most ideal – uh - interface partner. But don't tell Teletraan where Bee is!/

Chip made a puzzled sounding noise. /You got it Spike!/ he said. Plenty of room in the garage since my uncle left. But what's with the big secret? And the – uh – interfacing. It's kinda – a bit outta my usual line of work!/

I need a logical approach. /You gotta trust me on this one Chip. You're my best buddy. Right?/

Chip's voice came back full of enthusiasm and resolve. /OK! You got it!/

…

_Back on the Nemesis …._

Mirage's hands were planted on Rumble's shoulders as he looked into his optics. "Rumble I'm _serious!_" he said. "Of course I don't want to be interrogated by Soundwave! But its not just that. We can help each other. If you truly want Bumblebee as much as you say you do, then I alone can bring this about. You have to believe me!"

All Rumble's systems were now back online, and it would have been the simplest thing for him to whip out his piledrivers and give the Autobot spy a pounding he wouldn't forget in a hurry. Instead, the cassette found to his astonishment that he _did_ believe Mirage. And maybe this was only because he _wanted _to believe him, and he was still pissed at Soundwave for fitting him up with the bug – after all, Mirage was still a no good Autobot aft - but believe him, he did. And - more amazing still (if not unashamedly) - he trusted him.

There was, however, one very obvious impediment. And it would soon be here. /Rumble?/ Soundwave commed. /Neural energy waves - _detected;_ location - _in the vicinity of our quarters_; identity - _Mirage;_ advise -_ caution!_/

Mirage glanced at the door. "You need to get rid of him!"

But at that, Rumble paled. "I can't …" he stammered.

Mirage raised an optic ridge. "Bumblebee's 'cute yellow sexy hide?'"

Rumble felt his systems spasm with heat. He sighed. There really was no option. He cleared his throat. /Look - Soundwave - there ain't nobody in _my_ room!/ the cassette said. /Now - if you recall I'm in the middle of a slightly delicate operation! On your orders!/

He glanced guiltily again at Kickback, who still had not moved. And next to Kickback was - the tape. In all the kerfuffle, Rumble had almost forgotten the catastrophic 'evidence.' And Mirage had not even noticed it!

/Telling of truth - _negative!_ You are no more interfacing than I am Optimus Prime!/ intoned Soundwave. /I have with me the Insecticon Bombshell. He needs to see Kickback./

Rumble's jaw fell open. He gaped at Mirage."He brought the other Primus damned bug!" he said incredulously. As far as the cassette was concerned, it was the last straw.

Mirage frowned. He also looked at Kickback. "We have to get out of here _now_," he said. "Is there anywhere nearby that we can exit the Nemesis?"

"Yeah – there's a secret airlock just down next to Soundwave's room!"

"Right. Let's go." But Mirage found the way barred suddenly by the cassette, and a pain in his midriff as something pointy was poked into it. "What are you doing?" he gasped as he caught sight of a gun in Rumble's hand. "We just made a deal!"

"There's one more thing!" Rumble snarled. Leaning down, he reached down and grabbed the tape from the floor.

"One more part of our 'deal!'" he said. "You gotta help me get rid of this!"

Mirage stared at the tape in amazement. "That isn't by any chance …" Rumble nodded. "You got it, flashpants. Bee's _popping!_ There ain't no way he's gonna be shamed."

Now Mirage truly believed that Primus was on his side today. And his spark stirred, as he was touched further in the way he had been by the poetry. "No problem!" he grinned, taking the tape and tucking it in an arm compartment as Rumble removed the gun. "Now – we gotta go! Take my hand!"

But Rumble darkened. "Hey – I ain't taking nobody's hand. Whaddya think I …." But he had no time to protest further as Mirage grabbed hold of him. The air shimmered as they both disappeared.

...

If Bee had had less on his mind, he would have wondered at the extent of Chip's genius - even with a bandaged head. He had never known Chip could make a cloaking device. Any more than he thought he would fit into Chip's front room. But he had managed to squeeze through the door in root mode and now was hunched an all fours behind Chip and Spike, confident that at least here he was saved from his marauding faction members as they all stared at the computer screen.

The minibot could hardly believe the data which was appearing before his optics. The computer whiz's optics sparkled. "This is sensational!" Chip was saying."You see, I wanted to check Teletraan One was fully programmed to take into account all contingencies – so as a preliminary I did a search of all the interfaces all the Autobots had ever had with other Autobots. And this is what I got!"

Bumblebee looked at the screen, and felt a stab of dismay as a long catalogue of Autobot names flicked past. Save for a few of the more firmly bonded couples, many encounters flashing up opposite each one; and even with the bonded ones, names appeared which didn't belong to the 'mate.'

"Primus!" Spike said, as though echoing his thoughts. "I knew they thought Sunstreaker was a looker. But is there anyone hasn't had it of with? Or Tracks, or …"

"Windcharger?" Bumblebee's optics widened. "I never knew he was such a little goer!"

"Yeah!" Chip sounded equally enthralled. "Check out Brawn's credentials. And Cliffjumper, he went with …."

"Haven't we seen enough!" Bumblebee found himself less than amused at seeing his cousins' activities displayed before the humans. Even if they were his friends. Frankly, he wasn't impressed with Teletraan for divulging the information! "I don't want to know all this!" he sniffed. "I wanna know about me! And I don't wanna just go off and face like that. It's the problem. I wanna know if I could have anything - special!"

"Geez I'm sorry Bee," Spike sounded terrible. "I know how important that is to ya. Chip can be a bit too - _scientific_ - sometimes."

Bumblebee looked at Chip's gleaming optics and decided there was a remarkably _un_-scientific look in them. But at least he had removed the data, and now seemed to have activated another kind of search. The computer whirred again, and then a light flashed on the screen: _"Result of search – compatibility of Autobot designation 'Bumblebee' - negative. There are no Autobots which match the criteria for your search."_

Bumblebee rose in alarm so fast that he banged his head in the ceiling. There was a loud clack, and a long split appeared in the plaster. Chip looked up sharply. Spike laid a hand on Bee's arm. "Aww Bee, steady!" he said. "Say - I know how disappointing this must be, but just watch the decor. Chip only just got this room re-done after Ravage busted in and grabbed him that time. He gets kinda touchy if he's reminded of it. And he's still a bit nervous after they - er - you know ..." he glanced at Chip's head.

"But what am I to do?" Bumblebee wailed, not really giving a toss about Chip's ceiling, or his sensitivities - even though he reeled with guilt at such appalling self-centredness.

"It's OK Bee. We'll find a solution, somehow," Spike was saying, soothingly. Even if I have to …"

But he had no time to finish. For new data was appearing on the screen. _Autobot search - complete. Suggest search - Decepticon compatibilities._

Chip was evidently not too affected by the ceiling. And his attention was back on the screen. He chuckled. "Well now Bee! I know you wouldn't want that! Say - I couldn't even _imagine_ any of the other Autobots going to those lengths? What say Spike and I get our heads together and see if we can come up with something else. Teletraan, prepare to cancel search ..." and his hands moved to the keyboard.

But Bee's spark surged, his circuits fritzing with renewed hope. Suddenly, he knew - this was it! Urgently, he grabbed Chip's wrist, yanking away the fingers poised to type.

"Well _I_ could imagine it!" he said. "Because they _do _go to_ those lengths._ Do it, Chip! Make the search!"

...

_TBC Thanks. for reading. All reviews greatly appreciated - and always inspire more XD_


	9. Chapter 9

**= Sweet Vibrations =**

**By Ayngel**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

_**Warnings:** Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions - sticky and spark.  
_

* * *

In which neither the Autobot nor the Decepticon leader are impressed, Soundwave gets told off, Spike gets good and bad news and everything gets more complicated. And things get a little more serious!

Many thanks for reading, everybody, and for your great reviews. The more of those I get, the more inspired I feel - so I have no problem if you want to keep 'em coming!

* * *

**~ Chapter 9 ~**

_The Ark ...  
_

Although Optimus Prime's quarters were somewhat less opulent than his counterpart's on the Nemesis, the Autobot leader liked them immensely. They were a sanctuary, a refuge, his place of 'Zen and peace.'

Lying on the special adjustable recliner Wheeljack had made for his creation anniversary, Prime was happily enjoying them now, a glass of special red high grade in his hand as he watched on human television a delightful show from a few years back called "The Partridge Family."

Prime's spark warmed as he observed the humans, so loving and understanding and supportive of one another. How much he adored them! How utterly reflective they were of Autobot ideals. It was so fortunate that he had Mirage at his disposal to clear up this dreadful 'popping ' business which so could have destroyed their faith. For, difficult though the Alphamech spy might be, he never failed at missions like this.

And, Prime thought happily as he watched the human sparklings burst into song, he had sorted the other 'popping issue 'too. By now, Bumblebee would be enmeshed in a glorious circle of minibot 'togetherness.' The yellow minibot would return to the Special Ops team with a new confidence and pride. Primus knew - even a cheerful Gears might be theirs from now on!

No – it was all sorted. All that remained, until Megatron's antics started again, was for him to enjoy a well earned rest. Along with the rest of his troops, who would be ordered, cohesive when the time for battle came again.

At the thought of them, Prime glowed with fondness and pride. For all the hardships they had been through in the last few million years, they were still his loyal and beloved 'family.' But alas, these thoughts were short lived; for on the television screen a message appeared, abruptly displacing the Partridges.

"URGENT" it said, without even apologising for the interruption. And then, Prime put down his glass, his optics widening as a 'list' appeared:

"Bumblebee missing. Search party in pursuit – status – unauthorized. Red Alert in medbay. Dinobot Slag on rampage, refusing commands, damage status - serious. Severe minibot conflict in progress ..." And lastly, to his horror: "Mirage – status – failure to report in. Mission outcome unknown."

Prime sat up. He had a nasty feeling this was one of those Twins' idea of a practical joke! The leader's optic ridges furrowed. Well it was somewhat inappropriate, to say the least! The loving feeling as far as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe diminished just a little. He would have to have a word!

But it was no joke. Ironhide's voice cut in on comm, urgent and angry. /Prime! You gotta get down here. It's this Bumblebee issue. He's disappeared – and half the Autobots have gone mad! Wheeljack's lab's a wreck! I've kinda taken charge here but Gears and Cliffjumper could do each other serious damage. You gotta deal with the situation, Prime! I'm tellin ya!/

Slowly, unbelievingly, Prime picked up his glass and finished the red liquid which seemed, rather suddenly, to have lost its pleasant flavour. /I'll – er – I'll be right there, Ironhide!/ he said, still not really taking it all in, and knowing the authoritative tone which should have been present just somehow wasn't.

Prime could not help but wonder, not for the first time, how Megatron coped with this kind of scrap all the time. Somehow, it explained a lot.

...

_On the Nemesis_

Prime's Decepticon counterpart was also in a state of happiness, for entirely different reasons. He cackled delightedly as Soundwave informed him: /Subject Mirage - _located._ Proceeding to - _apprehension_./

/Excellent work, Soundwave!/ Megatron responded, before putting in a call to the medbay. /Hook! We will have Mirage with us soon. There will be no messing around this time. Prepare for complete data purge and reprogramming – _as a Decepticon!_/

Meanwhile, Soundwave strode resolutely in the direction of Mirage's signature. He, too, considered it high time his previous student saw sense and stopped this nonsensical Autobot caper. Megatron would perhaps have been a liittle _surprised_ had he known that Soundwave's intentions for the spy's reprogramming were – slightly different. But Soundwave didn't doubt he could convince the leader of their virtue. As long as his ideas were different from Starscream's, Megatron generally liked them.

And the insecticons were, of course, a part of them. They'd already conducted very useful work. "Another cerebroshell immobilization will be essential!" Bombshell was saying, a spring in his step as his horn twitched, excitedly. "A pity Kickback won't be with us to enjoy it, but I'm sure what he's doing right now will make missing out on it well and truly worthwhile!"

A low booming sound emanated from the telepath. Rumble was another matter altogether! It was fortunate the beetle had no telepathic powers – for whatever the cassette was doing, Soundwave was certain it _wasn't _pounding the other insecticon. Well, Rumble was going to get a firm 'talking to.' And if he wasn't 'doing it' with Kickback by the time Soundwave had finished, Soundwave wasn't his creator!

"And then I will be asking Megatron if we can continue the other process we started with Mirage," Bombshell was saying. "After all, Megatron dislikes unfinished business just as much as …."

But as they rounded the corner to the corridor leading to the Soundwave's quarters, a large winged figure was suddenly in front of them, hands on hips, forcing the large blue mech and the cyber beetle to an abrupt halt.

"Aha!" cried Starscream "I knew it! Headed for your quarters, eh?" he leaned close, his optics narrowing. "And don't think I don't know what you two plan on getting up to!"

...

"_That's _Soundwave's secret entrance?"

Mirage looked incredulously at the rusty wheel attached to the ancient looking capsule. "Couldn't he come up with anything better? It's just like with your quarters. I'm surprised at him!"

Rumble secretly agreed that both were scrap. Especially this thing, which had caused him nothing but headaches ever since Soundwave's ridiculous obsession with installing it - for Primus knew what reason. But the cassette bristled with outrage. How dare a stuck up Alpha say that about his 'work!'

"As a matter of fact, it ain't Decepticon," he snarled. "Frenzy an' me found it. Its outta some squishy fangled submarine. " He glared at Mirage. "So what's the deal? I s'pose some Autojerk type thing would have roses round the edges and a bow on the handle?"

"No I just imagine it would look a little more representative of eons of sophisticated cyber-technology!" Mirage said coolly. "And it might be an idea, if you are going to have an Autobot boyfriend, to adjust your terminology!"

Rumble scowled. Why couldn't the coghead talk in plain Cybertronian? Still, he had to admit he had a point! And for Bee – yeah! It was worth it. Hell, he thought as his spark ached with sudden longing, anything was worth it! Even if they really did have flower handled exit wheels, it was worth it. Not calling Autobozos 'Autojerks' was a small price to pay.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Mirage was saying as he glanced anxiously back along the corridor. "I doubt that Soundwave will be pausing to admire the view."

"All right, all right!" The 'orders' sent a new annoyance jangling through the cassette. But Mirage was also right about that. Grabbing hold of the wheel, Rumble threw all his weight into trying to turn it.

But the device wouldn't budge. Mirage folded his arms impatiently as Rumble hauled away. "Too _woosy_ to give me a hand?" he sneered. Then, remembering what had happened in his room, wished he hadn't. He thought of Kickback- and of what Mirage had in his possession. A vision of cackling, hooting, guffawing Decepticons, unable to contain themselves as Skywarp recited his 'verse' suddenly filled his processor. He doubled his efforts.

"On the contrary - I didn't want to question your mastery of the device," Mirage was saying. "But as you insist … we'll haul together!"

And then Mirage was behind him, the slender hands next to Rumble's on the wheel as the lithe body pressed against him. This time Rumble had to admit – it wasn't unpleasant; and the wheel gave way suddenly, spinning fast.

Rumble quickly hauled the chamber door open and they both slipped in, clanging it shut behind them.

….

_Back at Chip's place …._

"This is unbelievable!" Chip was shaking his head.

Bumblebee - now lying on his side along one wall - had just finished telling them about Grapple and Scrapper. "Everyone said Graps went weird after the solar power tower incident," he finished. "And I thought that was cos he was pissed about losing the tower. But now, its obvious! He was missing Scrapper!"

The latest 'search' option still flashed on the computer screen. But Chip had felt duty bound to ask more before doing the search. After all – wasn't this 'cavorting with the enemy?' What if Teletraan told Optimus Prime about his part in it? He might never be allowed to play with Teletraan again!

"It ain't really that strange, Chip!" Spike cut in. "Remember there were those gangs? An' my cousin Astoria went out with that Raoul guy? Man, was her Dad pissed about it. The guy wound up in jail!"

Chip really couldn't see how that was helpful. Apparently, Bumblebee couldn't either. "Nothing's happened to Grapple," he protested. "And I know for a fact he's not the only one! There's Smokescreen of course. Everyone knows about him and Swindle. And what about Sunstreaker and Sideswipe? That 'jet judo,' there's rumours that it ain't what its cracked up to be at all!"

Chip looked even more dismayed. But Bumblebee went on: "And you see, Chip, it's OK! Cos Autobots believe in love and feelings and sentience and stuff! If someone falls for a Decepticon ..." his voice took on a 'dreamy' quality, and he sighed, "well then - I guess they fall for a Decepticon!"

Chip shook his head, still unable to really accept that this could be so. Surely all it would be to a Decepticon was a means of taking advantage - however 'romantically' the Autobots viewed it. "Well, I dunno ..." he said.

Spike wiped his brow. A distinct heat had suddenly radiated from the minibot, making the room stifling. And he was sure it wasn't his imagination - there was a tangible 'static.' As though to confirm this, the lights above the desk flickered. More than a twinge of concern crossed the human's mind. Heck, he would go through hell and high water if Carly gave him the 'eye.' Much as he loved the Autobots and they were his friends, who knew what would happen if a 'romantic urge' was denied with one of them! The results could be a lot more catastrophic than the shattering of some 'ideal.'

"Awwww Chip please …." Bumblebee was shifting restlessly, and Spike noticed a distinct huskiness in the minibots processor.

"Uh – yeah, Bee …" Spike laid a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder. "Chip!" he said. "I think we just have to take a chance on this!"

…

_Back on the Nemesis …._

Starscream folded his arms. Soundwave and Bombshell looked at each other. "_Error in thought process,_" Soundwave said. "Purpose of mission – _capture of the Autobot Mirage._ Mission – _obstructed._ _Get out of the way!"_

Bombshell nodded agreement. "Yes indeed, Starscream, he said, "That is most certainly our purpose. There won't be anything of the nature you're suggesting, I can assure you, until this business with Mirage is well and truly sorted!"

Soundwave made a strange sounding noise. He shot Bombshell a look which could have been interpreted as a rather pleasant surprise. Starscream was delighted.

"Aha!" he said. "I knew I was right! How dare you use capturing an enemy as an excuse to get your ends away!"

"As if Mirage would hide himself in your quarters!" He scoffed. His optics narrowed. "You may fool Megatron with such claptrap …." he struck his chest with his finger, "but this is me, _Starscream,_ you're talking to here! "

Soundwave was still pondering on what Bombshell had said. During all those late night chats about psychology and interrogation and torture, was it not true he had always wondered what the beetle could do with that horn? But signature detectors whirred, automatically returning Soundwave to the task in hand as the imprints of Mirage grew fainter – as did those of Rumble.

_"Must go,"_ he intoned. "Subject matter – _receding!_ Sensors indicate - _subject leaving the_ _Nemesis!"_ And then, there was more. Soundwave's optics widened. "Cassette Rumble – _suspect_ _prisoner of subject!"_

Bombshell looked at him in alarm, but Starscream laughed out loud. "A nice try!" he sneered. "What in the Universe would Mirage want with Rumble?" he leaned close again. "And how, pray, would they get out? Its not as if there are exits in that neck of the Nemesis, are there? Unless ….." a gleam came into his optics. "Unless there's something you haven't told us, Soundwave! Something perhaps that - _Megatron_ ought to know about!""

Soundwave shifted awkwardly, torn between concern for his creation and this latest threat. Of course Megatron didn't know about the secret entrance! Only he and the cassettes knew about that – and, of course - Soundwave's circuits gave a warm thrum - _the Autobot Jazz ... _

And Megatron wasn't going to know about it either! As the signatures receded further, Soundwave made a decision. He glanced briefly at Bombshell, then barged forward, intent on simply shoving the Seeker aside.

Bombshell went to follow him, but there was a click. The insecticon stopped in his tracks - and Soundwave found himself looking into the barrel of Starscream's null ray canon. "I've got you this time, Soundwave!" the Seeker cackled triumphantly. "You're not going anywhere!"

But there were loudly echoing footsteps then, approaching fast. _"STARSCREAM?"_ a familiar voice thundered. But the Seeker smiled as the leader appeared, flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp.

The three stopped short when they saw the canon. "What in the name of thunder is going on?" roared Megatron. But Starscream looked smug. "Nice timing, Megatron!" he said. "Soundwave has something to say to you!" he smirked. "Don't you Soundwave!"

Megatron looked at him; then questioningly at Soundwave. His optics flared, dangerously. "Well?" he thundered.

...

_Back at Chip's_

Bumblebee's spark was a mass of heaving emotions. The purple cassette. It was him! So all those strange visions which had flitted into his processor and not been his imagination. And he'd done right to reject Gears and go through everything else he'd gone through today, because somehow – wondrously, amazingly - it was _meant to be!_

The minibot could hardly contain his excitement. Teletraan One had exceeded his wildest expectations. For now he also knew why he'd 'popped' so late. There in bold letters on the screen, right there in the report, was the indisputable evidence that he couldn't have popped before – because his spark hadn't recognized his 'ideal match.'

Bumblebee vowed never to say anything bad about the Teletraan One again.

More heat went through the minibot, but this time there was a warm glow in his chest, radiating through to his core and rippling along pathways to his interface gear which throbbed, rhythmically – but in a delicious, comfortable way, infused with sweet anticipation. Yes, his problems would soon be over, his 'needs' fulfilled – and so much better than he'd thought they would be.

If only Spike would just calm down ….

"_RUMBLE!"_ his human friend was yelling as he raged up and down. "That miserable punk? The first time I ever met him, he tried to kill my Dad! He threw me on the deck of that burning rig! And then, at Sherman Dam, he tried to kill me again!"

He glared helplessly at the watching Chip and Bee. "He left Hound for dead!" he wailed. "D'you know how hard it was holding my breath all that time so I could pull those rocks off him?"

Collapsing on Chip's favourite couch, Spike put his head in his hands. "You were right, Chip!" he groaned. "This was a bad idea! Teletraan must be – malfunctioning! I always have had my doubts, after the Constructicons tinkered with it that time!"

But the human in the wheelchair with the bandaged head folded his arms, a resigned expression on his face. He had complete faith in the computer. After all - was Teletraan not to him what Bumblebee was to Spike – a treasured friend?

And now there was a scientific basis for Bee's predicament - which Teletraan had assured him this 'perfect match' thing was, however unscientific it may sound - Chip was a picture of pragmatism.

"For a start, Spike, Teletraan's a 'he' not an 'it,'" he said. "And there's no mistake. See here …." he pointed to the computer screen, "he says Bumblebee's compatibility with Rumble is ninety eight point seven four per cent. That's even higher than it was between some of the Autobots! And look - it says something about an _alliance_. About him and Rumble 'restoring a balance.'" He smiled, happily. "Just imagine if there could be peace on Earth between the Autobots and the Decepticons!"

Spike looked at him in despair. He opened his mouth to protest. But Bumblebee's already shining optics had turned an even brighter blue, and once more the room was growing hot. And Chip was being so – _logical _about all this. And he was _so_ right about the 'peace' thing. If there was any chance of that, it had to be taken.

He slumped, resignedly. "I guess you're right," he said. "But when I think of all the holes in the ground and buildings that've been pounded to smithereens. He just seems like - a walking pile of destruction!" He shook his head, sadly. "Can't Bee do better? Isn't there like - a _second choice?"_

But Bee, his circuits tingling deliciously, now felt a fierce protectiveness towards the cassette as his spark gave a strong 'twang.' "No, Spike! You're not seeing the positive side!" he said. "You gotta admit, Rumble's kinda - _beautiful!_ He's got an awesome colour scheme! And you gotta destroy before you can rebuild something new!" His voice took on a 'dreamy' quality. "I think maybe that's what Rumble really is, y'know? A harbinger of better things!"

But that set Spike off again. "Oh Geez! He's gone soft in his processor!" he wailed, faceplating.

…

_Meanwhile, back on the Nemesis ..._

Starscream could not hide his immense pleasure. Oh the joy of seeing Soundwave 'on the carpet' for once! Skywarp and Thundercracker glanced anxiously at each other.

"It is simply not good enough!" Megatron was roaring, pacing in the corridor. "I cannot believe it! First I'm called away by Frenzy to see some _ridiculous _movie show where the equipment doesn't even work. Next, our favourite Autobot spy manages to get aboard the Nemesis because some _fool_ fails to jam the airlock …"

"Negative. That wasn't one of us …" Soundwave tried to cut in. _"Silence!"_ the leader roared. Starscream's chuckling was clearly audible in the background.

"Then we have a chance, after all these eons, to get Mirage," Megatron went on, "but that _cat _ruins everything! Nevertheless, our Alpha friend appeared to run himself into a corner. But now - he escapes!" He turned to glower at Soundwave. "Once more because of your 'pets.' For I cannot get it out of my head, Soundwave, try as I might, that Rumble has bungled again. _A problem which I asked you to resolve!"_

"Megatron – if I might interrupt …." Bombshell spoke up. "As a matter of fact …."

_"You may not!"_ Megatron roared. "He turned back to Soundwave. "And now, you're telling me there's a secret way out of the Nemesis – _that I didn't even know about?" _The leader threw his hands in the air. "However are the Decepticons to conquer the Universe with this state of affairs?"

"I was going to tell you …" Soundwave began. But Megatron wasn't listening. He was pacing again, And now, a change came over him. His silver armour gleamed. "Well, you have left me no choice, Soundwave!" he said, a new 'scheming' note in his voice. "I am _done _with tinkering around the edges!"

He looked at the other Decepticons. "A movie of some Autobot predicament!" he scoffed, "Such nonsense! Well _this_ time I am taking things all the way! I am going to put in place the _ultimate plan!"_

At this, Starscream's jubilance diminished, notably, and a ripple went through the others. Oh no, the Seeker thought. Which one this time? Perhaps he should have sided with Soundwave after all.

Megatron laughed maniacally. "I intend to put in place a _new _means to capture Mirage and reprogram him! Then, I shall restore the loyalty of your cassettes, Soundwave - _myself!_ And in the meantime ..." he chuckled evilly. "I shall have revenge on Optimus Prime for this _travesty_ – and in such a way that _all_ the Autobots will be destroyed!"

The Seekers looked at each other. Megatron turned to them. "Thundercracker, Skywarp! Assemble the Decepticons. It is time to unleash – _The_ _Evaporator!"_

Now, Starscream's face fell. Whatever Megatron had said could not have been be good, but he especially hoped it wouldn't be _that_ particular device. "But - it's not ready yet, Megatron!" he protested.

_"Yes ..."_ To his surprise, Soundwave agreed. "Status - _incomplete._ Maximum capability – _still to be calibrated_. Use – _inadvisable_."

But the leader erupted in more maniacal laughter. "I don't care!" he bawled. "I only intend to use it on a _very small corner_ of the ocean!"

...

_Back at Chip's …._

Chip looked at his friend sternly. "Now c'mon, Spike. Have a heart! He said. How many times have you come out with sappy stuff about Carly?"

"That's different!" Spike protested. "Besides – yeah! And where has it gotten me?"

"You don't know that it hasn't gotten you anywhere!" Chip said quietly. "As a matter of fact – she likes you. A lot!"

There was a silence in the room, punctuated only by Bumblebee's hissing intakes. "You had intimate talks with Carly?" Spike said incredulously. _"About me?"_

Chip raised an eyebrow. "Yes!" he said. "That time you were stuck on Dinobot Island, she really opened up!" he grinned. "She likes you – a _real _lot."

Bumblebee was happy for his friend. He really was! His spark warmed as Spike began to jabber about all the times he's longed to hold Carly's hand and kiss her. But the effect on his sytems status was catastrophic; for the spark warmth turned to a burning in his core, as fiery channels gouged a path straight to his interface gear. There was a faint graunching sound from his codpiece as, unable to prevent it, his new spike began to pressurize.

Bumblebee despaired. Spike was still talking, his face a picture of rapture. He couldn't interrupt! But suddenly Bumblebee _had _to see his 'love' too. Frantically, he looked around. His optics fell on the unattended keyboard. And next to the data about Rumble were the clear words "Click for visual image."

Scrambling across, Bumblebee hit the keyboard.

At once, a picture of Rumble appeared, purple panels gleaming, his body firm and compact. Powerful shoulders flexed rythmically as the cassette hammered away, the ground erupting in a mighty crack.

A wave of such intense desire swept over Bumblebee that he nearly fainted. The size of those piledrivers! How had he never noticed their magnificent dimensions before? It was wondrous, amazing! Bumblebee whimpered at the sight of the Earth itself shaking as Rumble pounded the ground again and again.

Heat surged through the minibot, charge rising in a crescendo - and then it was too much. The room, too small already, was suddenly a prison of lust and love.

He had to get out! Frantically, he started to crawl to the door as sparks erupted around his codpiece and the lights went out. "Gotta go guys ... sorry ... gotta go … gotta see him … gotta see him …" The crawling became a frantic dive for the doorway. "Rumble I'm coming!" he yelled.

Spike and Chip's conversation froze in mid sentence. Chip gaped at the blank computer ecreen. "No!" Both human cried, together. "Just as the comm on the computer rang out: /Chip? This is Prowl. Have you by any chance seen Bumblebee in your vicinity? Its - an emergency!/

…


	10. Chapter 10

**==Sweet Vibrations==**

**Bu Ayngel**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I absolutely positively definitely will make no money out of any stories about Transformers**_

So sorry for the delay with this chapter, and also for not answering any reviews. Work has absorbed much of my time, and I was busy writing My Immortal for Robotbigbang 2012, which involved 42K words in 2 months! Now, however, I can get on with other things. So here - finally - on with the show :D

Thank you all those who continue to read and support this fic. I do have much fun writing it!

_**Warnings: Smex, nothing explicit in this chapter but there will be. Adult themes, course language (Blame Rumble - he swears a lot). **_

In this chapter: Mirage and Rumble persevere with their escape whilst Scavenger devises a devious means of catching them. Optimus Prime has many issues to deal with, the Autobots come up with a new distraction, and Prowl makes a surprise call!

* * *

_**~~Chapter 10~~**  
_

_On the Nemesis Decepticon Base_

"The Evaporator!" Megatron crowed. "Such a brilliant device! I have nothing but praise for the Constructicons!" A scheming smile crept over his faceplates. "A contraption that can remove the water from the Earth's oceans, leaving only sodium mud. And the benefits will be all mine!"

Scrapper and his team exchanged uneasy glances. Starscream rolled his optics. "Megatron," Bombshell cut in, "it seems like a very great amount of trouble to go to for one Autobot and, much as Rumble is a valued member of the team …" he gave Soundwave a respectful little bow, "one Decepticon. Why don't you let Shrapnel go after them? He will knock them out with one blast."

Soundwave nodded. "Indeed." He intoned. _"Expense of Megatron's proposed operation - disproportionate to outcome. Advise – alternative capture scheme."_

"Yes!" Starscream agreed, very happy at this delightfully obstructive 'attitude'. "This whole thing is ridiculous! Why don't you listen? Soundwave is your most _trusted _minion after all, Megatron!" Soundwave and Bombshell nodded some more. There was still the matter of the not-so-secret escape hatch.

But for once, Megatron did not even pick up on Starscream's belligerence. And he'd forgotten all about the hatch. He began to pace, rubbing his hands in glee.

"Now, we can put into effect our plan! Not only will we capture Mirage, but we will plunder the ocean floor in a way never done before!" he cackled, his optics gleaming. "When I get my hands on those once submerged canyons, Optimus Prime may as well exile himself to deep space after all!"

The Constructicons looked at each other again. "You'd better say something!" Hook whispered.

Scrapper cleared his throat. "Er - Megatron - the point is, we have at present only created a device which will evaporate small quantities of water. A pond, maybe. Or even a lake. An ocean a third the size of the planet is a little – uh – beyond its capabilities. Just as the moment."

Soundwave and Bombshell nodded in agreement. But Megatron appeared undeterred. "You think I don't realize that?" he chuckled. "Calm down, you panic mongers! For once, loyal Decepticons, I am not angry at the lack of completion of this brilliant invention. I know its full potential will be reached!"

Scrapper and Hook exchanged more glances. "What we have here is an excellent opportunity to _test _the device," Megatron went on. "And we will test it on none other than…." his optics flared, "the precise corner of the ocean where our soon to be Decepticon spy and his 'prisoner' are walking right now!"

"But Megatron," Hook now spoke up. "The problem is, to put this plan into operation we would need a retaining wall. A rather _gigantic_ retaining wall …"

Starscream laughed out loud, and a chortling sound came from Bombshell, as snickers sounded elsewhere. It was then that Megatron's smile vanished, and he darkened. Without looking at the others, he turned to Hook. "Well build one then!" he growled, dangerously. "You're Constructicons, aren't you?"

"We are indeed," Seeing Hook's alarmed expresison, Scrapper took over again. "The problem is, we do not have the resources for such a construction. There is, however, the other alternative, which would be to drill into through the Earth's crust and release lava from the mantle, thus creating a ring of blockading volcanoes."

At that, Megatron's smile returned. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, ignoring the comments of _what are you thinking_ being hissed at Scrapper by the other Constructicons. "Find the resources, Scrapper. I give you full consent to use anything the Decepticons have at their disposal!"

Starscream, his own satisfaction evaporating, had heard enough. "Does it occur in your extremely limited processor, Megatron that if we attempt this it will likely busy our base in lava. Ha!" he threw his hands in the air. "I supposed you're going to tell our loyal soldiers here to construct a new one of those at the same time too!"

There was an uncomfortable silence. The look Megatron gave the second in command was murderous, and the Seeker's face fell as Bombshell and Soundwave took a step back. Meanwhile, sounds of "no way" and "Scrap-_per! Now what we gonna do?" _came from the Constructicons. Then a softer, higher pitched voice spoke up. "Permission to make a better suggestion?" Scavenger ventured nervously.

The others tried to shush him. But Megatron snapped his gaze from Starscream, quickly scanning the ring of anxious green faces. His optics settled back on Scavenger. "Why not?" he smiled, his voice like sweet poison. "You might even satsfy these pessimistic fools. Suggest!"

…

_Meanwhile back on the Ark ..._

Removing two capsules from a compartment on the back of his hand, Optimus Prime gulped them down. The Autobot leader already had a processor ache. And it wasn't from the high grade. Taking a deep intake, he tried to make some sense of the chaos erupting around him.

"I have had to confine the Dinobots and immobilize them entirely!" Wheeljack was saying. "My lab is an uproar, but the damage is repairable. This will _not_ be the case, however, if Devastator threatens the Ark while they are down. Prime, I really think it is time for you to let me consider putting together our own gestalt …"

Optimus Prime opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Hell! Wheeljack was one of the greatest techno-scientists in the Universe, and his suggestion was entirely sensible. But _Prime really could not deal with something like that just now! _

In any case, his audials were being furiously assaulted elsewhere. To his left, Ratchet was carping on about Red Alert's lack of suitability as senior security officer. "He's got a whole right through his left shoulder, Prime. But he brought it on himself. How many times have I told him to wear a bullet proof vest? Even with our own, y'just never know. 'Specially when there's a popped mech on the loose… "

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, an argument was in progress:

"What I'm sayin' is, the Gard Nordic Records were falsified. Just in case the enemy got a hold of 'em, and tried to duplicate our replication codes," Brawn was shouting. He wore a look Prime had seen many times before – but never with his fellow minibots. Behind him, Cliffjumper nodded smugly. But the other red minibot 'facing up' was far less impressed.

"Darned rubbish!" Gears roared. "What in the name of the Karn Mountains would the Decepticons want with our replication programming?"

"Plenty!" snapped Brawn. "They coulda used it to create a mutant strain of Decepticon minibots. So the Grand Council made a decision. An' I know it was carried out. Cos I did the falsifying!"

Optimus Prime felt a hand on his arm. "Prime? Are you listening? Slag is a valuable asset!" the tone was sharp. Such was the situation that now even _Wheeljack_ was annoyed.

"Prime? I'd be _obliged_ if you'd make a decision on this….?" Hands on hips, Ratchet glared. Prime was far less surprised that he was ticked off, but oh, how he could have done without it. And Red Alert's inadequacies.

The Autobot Leader turned away, tuning out the voices. His processor reverberated with cacaphonic chaos._ How,_ when he was only absent for a few breems, had things managed to get to this state? It only furthered the depressing reality that without him the Autobots were hopeless. Directionless. It was apalling!

It was, however, something which no matter what else - Prime's hands balled into fists - could not and _would not_ ever come to his brother's attention. No – he must pull himself together and deal with this; for that reason if no other.

"Pitspawn!" Gears was yelling. "It's a little too convenient you turn out not to be a relation now ain't it? Well I wanna point out - there is one obvious state of affairs - _Bee's yellow!"_

"Colour's got slag all to do with it!" yelled Cliffjumper.

"SHUT THE FRAG UP!" mercifully, Ironhide had appeared. He glowered around. As always, among all of them, the voice of reason had spoken. A silence fell, the group moving apart, angry exclamations reducing to mutterings. Wheeljack and Ratchet turned away, still complaining, but quietly. Gears stormed from the room, Cliffjumper and Brawn in pursuit.

Prime heaved a sigh of relief. He thought briefly of his sanctuary and the Partridge Family, and wished he'd brought the premium grade down with him. "Ironhide," he clapped an arm around the veteran's shoulders. "Thank Primus you're here!"

"It's not that I'm oblivious to the concerns of Ratchet and Wheeljack," Prime went on, but the important thing is that we get everyone back and that neither the Decepticons or the humans find out about our - _disarray._ I want you to go out there and for you and Prowl to arrest any unruly Autobots, and bring Bumblebee in!"

"But Prime!" Ironhide protested. "Their circuitry's gone haywire an' Prowl's runnin' wild right along there with them. Besides which – we ain't gonna have enough room in the brig!"

Why did they always have to complicate matters? And why did he always have to make the decisions? The leader cast Ironhide a deep blue stare. "Prowl's enforcer coding will carry him through," he reassured Ironhide, hoping that he was right about this. "And with you there too, the others will fall into line. Especially when I tell them …"

Prime hesitated, not really liking what he was about to say, but concluding that it was the only real option. If only, in fact, he had just pursued this course before.

"Especially when you tell 'em _what_, Prime?" Ironhide's optic ridges furrowed.

"That I will place Bumblebee in special custody and I will …" Prime took a deep intake, "sort out this situation myself. Once their quarry is gone, the problem shall be at an end."

At that, Ironhide's optics widened like saucers. "But Prime, that doesn't mean you're gonna do – what I think you're gonna do?" he asked incredulously. "And what about Mirage?"

Oh darn, Prime had forgotten that. Well it could wait. Prime was sure Mirage would be all right – he always was. As for his part in this? It had already been over.

"Seaspray will pick up Mirage," Prime said, hoping the boat had remembered this. "Other than that …" he sighed, laying a hand on his old comrade's arm. "Being leader is not an easy task. It brings many challenges, Ironhide, including tasks which one would rather not undertake, and should not have delegated in the first place. But sometimes, in the line of duty, one just has to 'bite the bullet!"

Ironhide nodded, smugly relieved that this was one task Mirage would not, evidently, be entrusted with after all. And rather pleased that Gears wouldn't get his way either. Whatever he may have thought about the situation, he wouldn't have wished _that_ on Bumblebee. "All in the line of duty …" he muttered.

"Yes, Ironhide!"

The veteran could not help but see a gleam in Prime's optics, just the same.

…..

_Back in town, somewhere in Oregon, USA_

Of course, the Autobot leader was right about Prowl. And it would have been of some relief to both he and Ironhide as they _did_ allow themselves a tipple of 'grade, that whatever else, Prime did know his troops well.

For Prowl had not, in fact, raged after his fellow Autobots. He had preceded more slowly, arriving in the backstreets just in time to see a terrified couple of humans leap from the path of a speeding blue and red Datsun. Tyres screeched, and the smell of burning rubber rose into the air. The humans had scuttled into a building, others scattering as Bluestreak roared past, oblivious to Prowl's presence and closely followed by Smokescreen, who had rounded the corner just after.

That was enough for Prowl's enforcer program to cut in, together with a profound sense of shame. His Datsun cousins were not only sex maniacs – they were hoons! And he, Prowl, very nearly hadn't behaved much better. He was going to have to give both of the others a stern talking to when all this had settled down. That would be followed by a thorough defragmentation of his own processor, and severe self remonstrations.

There being no sign of Bumblebee - not even a signature - a profound sense of guilt settled. Then, Prowl had thought of Spike. He had straight away commed the human.

It was now of extreme concern that neither Spike nor his friend Chip - who mercifully was all right after that other debacle - did not seem to have seen Bumblebee at all. Prowl's guilt deepened further at the thought that the minibot, overwhelmed by unwelcome 'attention' might have…

_Oh no_. Prowl could hardly bear to think it. Surely Bumblebee wouldn't have_ done_ something to himself? Popping was such a delicate time.

Worried and only just managing to stick to the speed limit, burning too much oil and his engine tappets ticking as they were inclined to when Prowl was uptight, the Autobot second in command headed into town.

Prowl paused in the Town Square and transformed. Word of the Autobot escapade had obviously spread; for whereas he would ordinarily have been instantly surrounded here by chattering humans wanting autographs and the like, they were avoiding him. The square emptied as furtive glances were cast in his direction.

Prowl spotted the podium where the medal giving ceremony had happened. He thought of Chip, collapsed and unconscious in his wheelchair, and a pain went through his spark. If only that ribbon thing hadn't been so slippery, and he'd been able to hand the medal over in a more competent manner, all this would never have happened!

Still, the point was not to lament and wail, but to make up for it now. To get human confidence in the Autobots right back to before the presentation. In fact, Prowl would take it upon himself to set the standard at a new found high. With this in mind, he activated his comm.

"Autobots" he informed them. "This is Prowl. Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing, you will stop it immediately, and rendezvous in the Town Square. I will meet you here in precisely four thousand astroseconds."

But to Prowl's dismay, laughter resounded back down the comm; together with various responses, none of which were ones Prowl wished to hear. "Lighten up, Prowlie! I reckon we're getting' warm!" was Jazz's final remark.

This was no good! A distraction was clearly required. A big distraction. And straight away. Prowl sighed. There was nothing for it. He would have to put into action the plan he'd thought of before; the one he'd really been thinking of when he told the others that the truce was over. Even if – he thought ashamedly – the idea had been to draw off the others while he pursued Bumblebee himself.

Opening his comm, Prowl tuned to the Decepticon frequency. Then he tuned to a_ particular_ Decepticon frequency, one which could not fail to send waves of excitement through him, even though he knew how shocking that was, and even though now – of all times – was hardly right for such inappropriate secret thoughts.

Although Prowl realized then why he had maybe gotten disporportionately worked up over Bumblebee ….

"Come in, Starscream!" he said crisply, determined to be businesslike, but tingling as he said it. Oh yes, the Autobots would soon find themselves all very distracted.

….

O_n the ocean floor, somewhere in the Pacific ..._

Mirage strode purposefully along, his feet kicking up little flurries of sand which swirled around the rocks strewn here and there on the ocean floor. Rumble found himself running to keep up, and nearly tripped over said rocks on more than one occasion.

"Miserable slagger!" he muttered, stumbling again. _This is probably pit anyway. I should just turn around and get the hell back to base. _Then he remembered what Mirage had offered – and Mirage's 'abilties' at his 'capture'.

Instead of remonstrating, Rumble boosted his thrusters and lifted off the seabed, moving alongside the pacing form. A least, he thought smugly, thrusters were something Mirage didn't have.

Mirage smiled, but said nothing. _The stuck up aft!_ Nevertheless, as Rumble coasted along, he became more and more conscious of the elegance and attractiveness of the blue and white form striding beside him. Grudgingly, he had to admit, Mirage was a looker. And talented. And – Rumble clenched his fists, thinking of when they'd opened the chamber – the slagger felt _good._

Well of course he did! Primus on his throne - Rumble had to be about the only Con on the base that didn't practically have an overload at the _mention_ of Mirage. They all raved on about how 'hot' he was, and how he had had heaps of frag buddies; that actually, he didn't just _frag,_ he _made love_ -which was a bit unconnish but _Sigma, the pithead was good, _they reckoned. He was an 'expert' by all accounts.

All Alphas were, they said. Which was impressive. Especially given that he, Rumble ….

The cassette realized then, balefully, that even if he wasn't being lured into a trap right now to be chained up and laughed at by Autobozos (which was, he had to admit, probable, even though he didn't want to think about it) he was doomed. Why? Because he knew sod all about love. Or lovemaking.

Which wasn't his fault. Hell, no! He'd never slaggin'_ been_ in love, had he? And Soundwave had been no help on that score. Neither had Frenzy, or Ravage, or any of his 'family.' But that wasn't the point.

The point was - now it came to the crunch - what _did_ you do with the love of your life? Apart from fragging him. But no – you didn't just launch into that either, did you? Rumble remembered how careful he'd been not to bang on about that in the poetry.

No – you sorta stared into their optics and sprouted stuff like in that poetry. Yeah, that was it. Wasn't that what he'd lain around for days, _writing_ the cogsuckin' stuff for?

But the other Cons never said nothin' about doing _that._ And if they saw the poetry, he'd be a laughing stock. No, Rumble still didn't know. His thrusters whirred despairingly. How ever was he to impress Bee? Then, he had an idea. Surely, while they were here, wasn't Mirage the best mech to ask about all this? Besides – the cassette scowled - there was hardly anyone else to ask, was there?

Clearing his vocaliser, Rumble moved a little closer. "So – uh – about Bumblebee," he said. "I guess you'd have a bit to do with him?" A shudder went through him_. I said his name! _Oh pit, he did have it bad.

Mirage, who had been trying unsuccessfully to comm Seaspray, was amused. There was such an eager note in Rumble's vocaliser, Entertaining, this was, even given the increasingly uncomfortable situation and the fact that even though the water should have been getting shallower, it was, in fact, deepening.

"Yes I do, as it happens!" Mirage said.

It was a pity about _that frickin' voice._ Rumble wondered what Mirage would sound like with his posh vocaliser crushed under a piledriver. _But no_ – he had to correct himself. _Be nice to the slagger…_

Nevertheless, he moved back. It still wouldn't do for Mirage to think he was _too _keen. And he ought to also do something about showing that the poetry didn't matter half the slag so much as Mirage thought.

"Is Bee – y'know – seein' anyone?" Dang it, that probably sounded too keen. But Rumble ought to know._ Had_ to know. _Needed_ to know what_ level _he should be up to. And Oh Primus, it still was worth entertaining a hope that he would be the _first_, wasn't it?

"I'd hardly have gone to the trouble I have, if he already had a suitor, now would I, Rumble?"

_The smart afted git! _Rumble gritted his denta. "Yeah - well - I just wondered if I'm gonna have a dozen Autobozos trying to punch my lights out, didn't I?" It was, Rumble surmised, a perfectly reasonable question.

Mirage thought of the behaviour of his fellow Autobots, of Prowl and Jazz with their glossae hanging out, the snickers in the rec room and the outright displays of lustful behaviour. "Oh I daresay you'll have that" he smirked. "But I'm sure you're well and truly up to defending your true love's honour are you not?"

"Eh?" Rumble hadn't even thought of that. But now it came to it, anger seared through the cassette, an uncontrollable surge worse even than what he'd felt for Skywarp that time the Seeker made a statue of him and sprayed it pink.

"Well I just want you to know that they're gonna be history!" He roared before he could stop himself. "Nothin' I ever did to them anywhere is gonna compare to the state of their slagged up frames when I've finished!"

Memories of being fiercely desired - and defended - crossed Mirage's processor, and the spy smiled sadly. It had been a long time since such sentiments were expressed over him. This really was rather sweet. He thought of Shrapnel, and wondered if anything more would actually ever come of that – other than it being an episode of intense titillation.

But the racer couldn't resist stirring Rumble. "You really are keen," he said. "First, poetry, and now, what is this? Duals at dawn?"

Rumble felt like grabbing the piece of pit, yanking him to a halt and giving Mirage a demo; seeing what that nosecone looked like driven into the ground. But he couldn't. That was the darned trouble - he _couldn't._"Yeah! Well I want you to know, that stuff I wrote - it's only cos Autobots like that stoopid pit, ain't it? I mean, I wasn't gonna get anywhere if I just _fronted up_, was I?"

"Get anywhere? You mean you are, after all, interested in a purely sexual liaison with Bumblebee, but wrote those lines just to lure him in?" Mirage asked politely.

The water was growing darker, more gloomy. Mirage dodged a sea snake which slithered in front of him. Sharks, rays and other unsavoury sea critters coasted around them. He was rather glad of this conversation. As he grew more uneasy, it was proving a distraction, as well as useful.

"Yeah!" Rumble said. After all, that was what a con should say wasn't it? Then, he paled. Of course it wasn't _in this situation._ Now what would Mirage think? "I mean …"

Oh no, Rumble had to admit it, "It'd be kinda nice if there was other stuff!" the cassette growled.

Mirage hid his delight. "Other stuff? Bumblebee has only newly shed his primary phase one interface cover. You should tell me what you mean by that term."

Rumble thought he might pass out with the surge of desire that went through him. His thrusters gave a sharp whine. So Bumblebee hadn't had a first, yet! "Er - kissing. Saying stuff. Whispering sweet nothings, all that scrap …" he said weakly. Sigma! If only Mirage hadn't said 'interface' quite like _that._

But Mirage didn't answer. A long moment went past and he _still_ didn't answer. Anger descended on the cassette again, as he started to feel like a jerk. "Hell I dunno, do I?" He growled. "I'm a cassette not a slaggin' bond guidance counsellor. You know all the answers. Why don't ya fraggin' tell me?"

But Mirage wasn't listening. For his uneasiness had increased tenfold. The water was deeper than ever, he could not even see the surface above; surely that wasn't right? Ahead, it was murky, a large shape looming up in the gloom. Mirage recognized, as they drew closer, the wreck of a ship. He stopped, looking around him, instantly setting the electro-disruptor to standby and priming his rockets and rifle.

Rumble couldn't believe it. Could Mirage really, cut him off, be so totally inattentive at a time like this? He really was an aft.

"Forget I even mentioned it!" the cassette yelled.

…..

_Back on the Nemesis ..._

Scavenger trembled as Megatron stood over him, hands on hips. The leader's mouth spread in a firm line.

Bonecrusher and Hook appeared either side of their team mate, each laying a hand on his arm. Soundwave and Bombshell looked at each other. Annoyance flickered on Megatron's faceplates. "Well?" he thundered.

Scavenger glanced nervously at the others. His shovel tail twitched, and Long Haul reached out to stroke the shaft, soothingly. Starscream smirked, greatly amused. Oh how ironic it was that the components of Megatron's most powerful robot could not even function under normal circumstances without touching each other up!

Scavenger spoke. "I sometimes play near the Abyss," he said. "I've been collecting stuff. Wrecked ships an' things."

"Y-yeah!" Mixmaster cut in. "S-s-sometimes _we_ wreck 'em!" Megatron glared at the mixer, who was silent instantly. The leader looked back at Scavenger. "What has this to do with anything?" he snapped.

Scavenger cowered. Scrapper took over. "He was worried about his stuff getting stolen," he said. "We couldn't really see why anyone would steal it, but we put up surveillance cameras just the same. It uh –" he glanced at Hook, who nodded. "It saved him wandering around out there in the middle of the night."

His earlier euphoria now almost non existent, Megatron turned away. Pacing across the room, he scraped his hands across his helm. One moment these mechs were about to deliver the ultimate weapon to conquer the universe, the next, they were running around in the night playing with human boats and _junk?_ And fixing up _cameras?_

At that moment, Megatron actually envied his brother Prime – who surely didn't have to put up with _this_ sort of nonsense. At least most of the Autobots were relatively _sane_ compared to his lot. "And the point being?" he roared, rounding on them again.

"The c-cameras just showed up Mirage and Rumble headed that way," Scavenger stammered. "An' there's another thing. I dug this pit. To catch criminals – you know - anyone that might wanna nick my stuff. They're headed straight for it. We could drive them in!" Gentle hands patted his panels. "Well done!" Long Haul whispered.

Soundwave and Bombshell made sounds of approval, as Megatron's good mood returned almost immediately. "Splendid, Scavenger!' he roared. "Did I not say the Constructicons were the greatest mechanical devices the Decepticons had ever built?" He smiled, warmly. "I suggest you get yourselves out there right away. You can have the honour of bringing in the traitors!"

Disappointed, Starscream scowled. Oh how much easier his takeover would be if he could just keep them at each others' throats! But Soundwave stiffened. "Suggest attendance," he intoned. "Apprehension of Mirage - _tricky._ Constructicons - _inferior._ Estimation – _not capable_. Soundwave – _superior. Highly capable."_

Bombshell was nodding agreement. "Splendid idea!" he said. "I suggest we take Shrapnel for backup."

But the Constructicons were bristling, furious mutterings erupting through their ranks. Bonecrusher moved form their midst, his fists clenched. "If you're suggesting we need a bunch of _bugs _to help us …"

"Pardon me!" Bombshell looked affronted. "It is strictly not within inter-sector protocols to refer to us in those terms. The Sector three intra galactic council will have to be informed of this!"

"_Why you …"_ As he lunged at the Insecticon, the others only just grabbed Bonecrusher , who found the beetle's large cerebroshell loaded horn pointing threateningly in his direction, Soundwave standing by. Everyone was completely unaware of Megatron's incredulous expression.

Starscream turned away, smirking. One of the wonders of being a Decepticon was that things so quickly changed for the better. He looked at the fish circulating outside through the round portal. "Yess!" he whispered.

It was only then that the Seeker became aware that his comm was going off. Probably, it had been for a while, as he'd put it on silent mode so as to give this _situation_ his attention. A smile twisted the Seeker's mouth. What an unexpected asset! It was an Autobot frequency. And Starscream knew exactly which one.

Scrapper was begging Bombshell not to shoot, whilst Megatron was roaring 'silence' and then yelling at the Constructicons to 'just get out there.' Then they were leaving; meanwhile, Bombshell seemed to have changed tack. He was raving on about _where was Kickback?_ And then about 'rights' whilst Megatron, now scarlet in the face, was yelling about _reconsidering the alliance_ whilst Soundwave paced despairingly. "Rumble …" he intoned again and again, wringing his hands.

Starscream watched them, letting the comm ring a few more times. Then, he answered it. /Prowl, my good friend!/ he said, a little more enthusiastically than he had intended, but well – things were turning out rather splendidly. /What can I do for you?/

/Starscream – I need your assistance./

/I'd be delighted!/ the Seeker said. Despite Prowl's 'tone,' he hoped it was the sort of assistance he had in mind.

…

_Back in Town ..._

Finding no trace of Bumblebee, the Autobots were running out of steam. And it was probably not so much the futile chase, but the fact that deep down they really did respect the law, and humans, and were more than a little afraid or Prowl in enforcer mode, and most definitely didn't want to end up in the brig. With this thought simultaneously in mind, they headed for the now deserted Town Square.

But when they got there, Prowl was nowhere to be seen. The Autobots transformed, flopping down on the grass and on the various concrete edifices which adorned the human gathering place. "I'm over it anyway!" Sunstreaker growled. "Now I think about it, what's the deal with newbies? They're boring!"

Reaching into an arm compartment, the golden twin brought out a bundle of small high grade cubes. "I came prepared," he chuckled, in a much better mood. There was nothing like a good rampage through narrow streets to burn off excess charge. "Seeing as how Prowl ain't here, anyone want one?"

There were noises of appreciation and the clanking of metal, as most of the other Autobots joined him on the grass next to the podium. Jazz, feeling guilty now himself, abstained. He found himself looking at Bluestreak, who sat down next to him on the edge of the fountain.

"Where d'you suppose Bee is?" Bluestreak asked. He was tired now, and a little apprehensive; for wasn't that Prowl who'd been standing there after he nearly knocked over those humans? His doorwings twitched, nervously. There'd be hell to pay when his cousin turned up.

Jazz was frowning. "Weird," he said. "Ain't no energy signature n'Teletraan one's telling us Bee ain't even on the planet!"

Bluestreak 's optics widened. "D'you reckon the cons have captured him?" he wittered. "I mean – even if they didn't, he could have turned traitor, and got on the spacebridge, and gone back to Cybertron, and be talking to them right now, and …"

"Na!" Jazz said. "Even in a popp'd state, Bee wouldn't do that. An' the cons are stuck on their base. Ain't no spacebridge activity."

"It's us!" Bluestreak wailed, the enormity of what he had done suddenly descending. "We chased Bumblebee away!" Jazz moved closer and put an arm around his shoulders. "There there!" he said.

Bluestreak shuddered. Jazz brightened. His hand wandered down the gunner's side, and on to the red thigh. Just because the chase was over for now, didn't mean his charge had gone – in fact it was rather high; what with Bee and the uncomfortably unrequited situation with Prowl in the Ark corridor, Prowl's now obvious displeasure and the unlikelihood of 'getting it' for some time to come.

"Wanna see if there's an empty building somewhere?" Jazz whispered.

Meanwhile, the other Autobots were grumbling. "The trouble is, the reason we're _like this_, there hasn't been enough action lately," Sunstreaker was complaining, as helms nodded. "Or variety. I ain't seen Thundercracker for ages."

"I agree!" Sideswipe sighed. "It's the same with Skywarp. When I think of how our jet judo sessions used to be like and how they are now. It's pathetic!"

You know, if I don't see Scrapper at least once a month, it really sets my creative equilibrium calibrators on edge," Grapple, who had only half sparkedly participated in the chase, and had been deep in thoughts of his own, now spoke up. "Scavenger's very cute. And I really do enjoy those chats with Hook. Such a keen optic for detail!"

"Yeah!" Windcharger said. "Ya kinda need a bit of con sometimes!" He was the only minibot who had joined them. Somebody had to stand up for Bee's honour if they did find him, he'd figured; and although Windcharger had had no idea how he would do that, it was much more fun roaring around the streets than watching Brawn and Gears get into a fists up.

"Reckon that's why Prowl's so tetchy," Sideswipe snickered. "He hasn't been the same since that time with Starscream."

"Will you stop talking about this!" Smokescreen spoke up with a wail. "It's making me miss Swindle!"

"And me Brawl!" growled Warpath

Passing with Bluestreak, Jazz paused, distracted by the conversation. "Y'know, I gotta admit. I'm much better when I'm payin' Soundwave regular visits," he agreed as Smokescreen and Warpath threw up their hands in despair.

Bluestreak, a little disappointed that things had ended so abruptly before they had even begun, nevertheless was intrigued. He'd long harboured secret hopes of romantic Con-type entanglements. "Why don't we throw a party and invite them?" he suggested.

There were sounds of approval. "Great idea!" Sideswipe piped up. "It'll keep us out of Prowl's wires circuits he deals with Bumblebee!"

"Yeah!" Sunstreaker was on his feet and had whipped out his comm. "Shall I make the call?"

But there was no need; for at that moment Prowl's voice cut into all of their processors simultaneously. "Autobots! This is a Code Red override. Repeat_, Code Red override._ The Decepticons are attacking. Battle unit to assemble immediately at the south beach!"

The cheer which went up was deafening. Transformation noises echoed enthusiastically amid the _tink_ of discarded cubes on concrete, shortly before, en masse, the Autobots roared towards the ocean.

Ironhide, arriving shortly after, looked at the litter and just shook his head. "Oh no," he muttered. "_Now_ where have that pitspawned rabble gone?" He decided he should have gone to visit Beachcomber after all.

…

_Back on the ocean floor, somewhere in the Pacific ..._

Mirage definitely had a bad feeling about things now. An eerie quality had descended, and he saw through the green gloom the shadows of more human ships and what looked like submarines. Huge sea creatures coasted between the abandoned and decaying hulks. Worse, a growing conviction was taking hold in Mirage's processor that _they were not alone._

Yet no signatures were showing up. Not that they did, properly, at this depth; a curse, as was the fact, as Mirage had just discovered, that he was totally unable to activate the electro disruptor. _Great timing. _He tried comming Seaspray again. Darn it, even the comms didn't work in this Primus forsaken place!

Meanwhile Rumble, glancing around, saw that they were in Scavenger's playground. What in the name of a Quint's aft were they doing _here?_ Well hell – it wasn't his job to question the stoopid Autobozo was it? "Wot now?" he said, still furious that the dork of an Alphamech had chosen to ignore he, Rumble, in his passionate plea for romantic assistance.

But a sudden delightful thought did occur. _This might be where Mirage had Bee hidden._ It was a weird proposition, but aside from their other attributes, Alphas were also _were_ weird. Everybody said so.

Mirage glanced around, taking in as much as he could. Rumble did seem surprised, nevertheless, this could easily be a trap. He was conscious of Rumble brushing himself down, removing some seaweed which was entangled in his cassette tray. "Where are we?" Mirage asked.

Rumble could hardly believe his audios. Bad enough that he'd been cut off at the crucial moment. Now this? "You don't know?" he sneered, removing a fish from the top of his pelvic seam. Then he registered Mirage's less than amused 'look.' "Scavenger's hangout – near the Abyss," he said. "But don't go gettin' no souvenirs. It jacks him off. Then the rest of the Constructijerks get jacked off. It ain't pleasant."

Mirage vented, in an attempt to mask his anxiety and also his growing irritability. They'd come in completely the wrong direction! He never was any good at underwater orientation. (Well he hated water, for pity's sake!)

And this place was – well – Mirage had heard stories about Scavenger's 'unusual' collective tastes. And whilst, according to Grapple, they were 'only rumours,' he shuddered, thankful he couldn't see the true nature of all the junk out there. He certainly would pass on the souvenirs.

Rumble was smirking. "I thought your sorts didn't _do_ things like get lost!" he sneered.

"I don't in most terrains," Mirage said smoothly. "But I'm not familiar with this environment. _You're _one who lives down here!"

"An' _you're_ the smarty pants tryina abduct a Decepticon!" _How dare he!_ Rumble clenched his fists.

But Mirage wasn't listening again. His senses were trained on the nearest hulk. For he was sure he had caught movement, a figure sliding in the shadows. Drawing his gun, he started to walk slowly forward.

There were still no signatures. Darn it! Where was Seaspray? And why hadn't the boat ever said anything about this? Had he really been so busy with his mer-lovers?

Rumble was thinking too. Maybe he should transform right now and start pounding Scavenger's 'collection' to smithereens? His_ collection._ What a joke!

Bee obviously _wasn't_ here, but he was bound to be impressed. Mirage could tell him about it. Yeah! It was normally a surefire recipe to becoming instant Constructijunk – but hey, Scrapper and his Constructijerks weren't here. He, Rumble, was moving on to better things. Placing his piledrivers on standby mode, he started to follow Mirage.

It was too late that he remembered the cameras, had the awful realization that the Constructijerks probably knew they were here. (Darn it – and to think he'd helped Viewfinder install the things. That was how preoccupied he'd been lately.) It was too late also when he saw the shadowy green and purple figures lurking by the ships, heard familiar laughter coming from that direction.

Mirage fired, but the targets ducked back, reappearing immediately; and suddenly all the Constructicons were there, and weapons were pointing at them, and – oh no, this couldn't be happening – the ground was giving way.

"Rumble!" boost your thrusters and get us out of here!" he heard Mirage yell, astroseconds before they both plunged into the pit.  
…..

_Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter - what's happened to Bee? (And Spike, and Chip) :DD_


	11. Chapter 11

**==Sweet Vibrations==**

**By Ayngel**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I absolutely positively definitely will make no money out of any stories about Transformers**_

Once more a delay, but I'm determined to press on with this now!

_**Warnings: Smex, nothing explicit in this chapter but there will be. This chapter: ****Usual warnings for sexual concepts, sticky sex (not yet explicit - there might actually be some of this soon), virgin Bumblebee, alt mode non sticky overload and randy Autobots.**_

In this chapter: Megatron is less than amused. Spike and Chip despair as Rumble and Mirage try and find a way out of their predicament. Help is on the way, but Bumblebee has an attack of nerves about his 'first.'

* * *

_**~~Chapter 11~~**_

When Bumblebee had fled from Chip's house, his only thought had been flight. To run, to get away – escape the confines of that room…

Anything to cool the raging and unfamiliar sensations. Transforming, he had revved hard, screeching away and only vaguely aware that he was rolling towards the ocean.

He'd known that, at any moment, the Autobots would come after him. Curiously, this had mattered not - for as he flew down the deserted streets, something had begun to build, a simmering pressure deep inside, a warmth that spread from his core. He'd swung on to a track that led upwards to the cliffs at a speed Prowl would definitely have had him in the brig for – but damn it had felt good, only seeming to enhance the extremely pleasurable feelings.

He'd rounded a bend, revving hard, the pressure inside rising fast. Warmth had turned to fiery heat and he'd accelerated harder, his coolant systems responding with a burst as energon pounded in his conduits. Then, just as things had reached a point where surely _something_ ought to happen – it had. A crackle of energy had burst through Bumblebee, sending him into a swerve, sparks scattering into the trees.

"What the…" the minibot had only just stayed on the tarmac. He'd screeched to a halt, sucking in air, his systems reeling. _What the hell was that?_

Yet despite the surprise, Bumblebee had felt –_ better. _ In fact quite – _radiant._ He'd been aware of very nice waves coursing gently through him, of a 'happy' feeling, of his engine ticking over smoothly as the revs died down and temperature settled. His HUD had registered all systems functioning in a synchrony they didn't usually achieve; heck – that had been _all right!_

And hey - he was a pretty splendid form, wasn't he? Even if he did have an 'older' Earth mode.

_No wonder they all wanted him._ The minibot had felt most chuffed at the thought. And_ that_ was what you needed to do when things got like that. Well my – that solved heaps of problems!

Not all, however. At the roar of engines in the distance, Bumblebee's euphoria had vanished abruptly. What was he thinking? Primus – it was a wonder they had not detected him.

A quick scan had showed that he'd triggered his 'blocker,' a device that could deflect detection on a limited basis. It was a useful asset, a gift from Optimus Prime when he'd been recruited to special ops. Obviously, it had worked – and from the sound of the engines, the Autobots had been headed not towards him, but further up the coast, maybe to where waves lapped against a long golden beach. Bumblebee had played there with Spike.

_Special ops…Spike…_ Bumblebee's career must be in tatters now, his friendship ruined. The minibot's spark had ached. Those days seemed so far away now. But there'd been no time for such thoughts. Now, Bumblebee concentrated on getting to the top of the cliff. There, with the Autobots apparently distracted, he must figure out what to do. He needed to _think_ – not least about his 'perfect match.'

Why, even now he was heating again – and it wasn't due to the steep road. The very idea of Rumble's pounding piledrivers sent little currents scurrying, making Bumblebee tingle in ways he never had before. Oh, he had to figure things out! He'd carry on up this track till he reached the cliff tops. It was good up there, windswept and fresh. Didn't Perceptor call it his 'inspiration place?'

But it was as he pulled up, far above the waves that churned on the rocks below, that the transmission came through. "Autobots, come in," said the cultured voice. "Optimus, Ironhide, _anyone?"_

A bolt of excitement went through Bumblebee. It was Mirage! Immediately into his processor came the memory of what Mirage was going to _do_ – coupled with a sharp rise in the tingling. The one Autobot who understood him, who had gone to get his first…

Almost as fast, disappointment careened through his processor. Mirage agreeing to _Rumble_ being his first? No way – not when even Sideswipe had been considered 'not up to scratch.'

"Autobots? Your assistance is required. _Anyone…?"_ But wait - Mirage sounded in trouble.

Bumblebee activated his comm. "This is Bumblebee. Where are you?"

"Bumblebee, listen…" Although Mirage's voice was faint and crackly, relief was obvious. "You need to contact Seaspray and arrange for my immediate extraction. He'll know what to do. I'd say more, but I don't want to draw attention to my current situation."

/But Mirage I –/ Bee wanted to say that he didn't know where Seaspray was or how to contact him and he didn't see how he could possibly help, and that most of all, – even though it was shamefully selfish - he wanted to know about the _other matter._

/Listen, Bumblebee, you need to trust me. I have - a very special mech with me./

An uncontrolled thrill went through the minibot. /What mech? You mean…/ But no. It couldn't be …

/Yes, Bumblebee, it is your first. However, I am duty bound to tell you that it is …/ the comm crackled, /_a Decepticon./_

Bumblebee knew it! This was incredible - he wanted to jump up and down! And now, he had a feeling about this – a really good one. /Hey – that's great!/ he yelled, unable to contain his excitement. /This Decepticon…/ and then he hardly dared ask, /it wouldn't by any chance be…/

/Bumblebee, pay attention!/ Mirage's voice was grim. /There are complications. Here are my coordinates. You _must_ get Seaspray – or there will_ be_ no first…/and the com cut out.

Bumblebee found himself swimming in an agony of glorious euphoria and terrible fear. He was sure he knew who it was – and that meant the two mechs that he valued most in the universe were out there and in trouble. Well, the hell with Seaspray. At that moment, Bumblebee felt he could conquer the universe. He'd been in the ocean before hadn't he? What about that Atlantis place?

Yes_ - he _would save them."Don't worry – I'm coming!" he yelled as he transformed.

….

Spike walked faster, pacing up the narrow clifftop road and noticing with dismay from the zigzagging rubber tyre marks that some Autobot had even come up here. If only it was Bumblebee; but even in his current state, the minibot would never drive that crazily. He had too much deeply inherent road sense, and he hated hills.

Still – at least from up there they'd maybe see what was going on. "D'you think Prowl believed us?" he panted. He still felt insufferably guilty at having lied to the Autobot second in command.

Chip wheeled harder to keep up, then gave in and activated the small engine that Wheeljack had attached to his chair. "Hell, Spike – did y'see how the Autobots were carrying on? How could we know Prowl wasn't right there with them?" he tried to reassure his friend.

"Yeah - the Autobots – I can't believe them. Why they were like – _sex maniacs,_ or something!" Spike still couldn't get over it. "If anything's happened to Bee I'll never forgive myself." His feet stomped heavily on the tarmac. "And if that punk Rumble goes near him he's dead!" Spike slapped his fist into the palm of his hand.

"Spike – you really must look at this more scientifically," Chip reproached. "The Autobots were simply reacting to the equivalent of a hormone imbalance in humans. Haven't you ever seen how several of our kind will compete for a first date with an attractive member of the other sex? As for Rumble – well – there's a chemistry between certain humans too. A need to connect, to reproduce. It's all deep-seated genetic coding. Carly and I have discussed both issues - often."

Spike had been about to reluctanly agree. Chip was a scientist after all. But at the last part, his steps slowed abruptly. "You and Carly have talked about _- that?"_

"Yeah!" Chip shrugged. "Mainly in the context of _your_ genetic coding."

"You WHAT…?

Chip's wheelchair engine chugged steadily, mingling with the cries of Seagulls wheeling in the distance. "I told you she liked you, Spike!"

"Yeah, but I didn't think …" Spike drew deep breaths of the sea air, trying to marshal his thoughts. Then a grin spread slowly over his face. "Wow …" he let out a sharp rush of air. "This has been some day!"

But Chip's face had changed. He was looking past Spike. "Oh no," he muttered. "Oh – NO!"

Spike turned sharply. There was a gap in the coastal scrub, between which the edge of the cliff was visible, jutting out over the ocean. Spike gasped. Poised near the edge was a distinctive yellow car. The sound of a revving engine sounded above the noise of the ocean and the cry of seagulls. Overwhelming joy at seeing his friend was immediately eclipsed by horror; for it was obvious what the minibot was about to do.

"NO! " Spike cried. "Bumblebee - it doesn't have to be like that… we can find you another 'first._' I thought it was hopeless with Carly, but it isn't…"_

But it was too late. Bumblebee's tyres screeched briefly on the bare rock. There was a only brief pause before he took off, careening over the edge. A cloud of exhaust smoke lingered briefly.

Agonized, Spike could only stare. Bee would be smashed to pieces on the rocks under the cliff! But maybe not – VW beetles were tough cars. And maybe he'd had enough momentum to get beyond where the foaming surf churned?

Spike thought fast. He must help. It would still take at least twenty minutes to get up the winding slope. That could be too late. Through the scrub was a far more direct route. "I'm coming…" Spike started into it.

"You can't get through that way," Chip yelled. "There's a creek - its why they built a road!"

"I'll find a way!" Spike's voice wailed thinly in the sea air. "Why'd you have to tell him he had no compatible Autobots?" Sounds of crashing foliage followed.

"I didn't!" Chip yelled. "It was Teletraan One!"

"Darn it!" Releasing his throttle, Chip skittered away up the track.

It was only moments later that there came a sound of heavy footsteps behind him, accompanied by robot type noises. Chip froze in his chair. Had they been so busy talking they hadn't heard the Autobots come back?

But it wasn't any of the Autobots they'd seen near the town square. Instead, Seaspray appeared, clanking beside him, venting heavily. On the other side of Chip, a rather odd looking robot appeared. Chip gaped so hard he nearly ran off the road. The robot looked like… well – like a _female_.

Hell – Chip hadn't even thought there _were_ any female transformers. He almost forgot Bumblebee. "Hey Chip," Seaspray panted throatily. "This is Alana – you know, my mer-friend. Nice robot form, eh?" He grinned sheepishly. "I got a message from Mirage. Had his tailpipe in a right knot. I was s'posed to pick him up before. We kinda got - waylaid."

Alana giggled above the clanking. But Chip, his thoughts scooting back to the yellow minibot, didn't share their mirth. "No…" he cried, accelerating. "But Bumblebee, he…." Breathless, he told Seaspray and Alana what had just happened.

Seaspray patted his shoulder. "I doubt if he's done the worst," he said. "It ain't that easy to die gettin' smashed up – Ratchet tends t'stick you back together – an' then its worse than before. I reckon he woulda missed those rocks. He probably went to find Mirage."

"Say, its all cool." Apparently in agreement, Alana was pulling to a halt. She pointed in the direction Spike had gone. "We can head into the creek down in the cleft back there and then out to sea. And we can pick up Spike on the way. Say – I can test my alt mode function – see if the well of transformation really made me a transformer!"

"Good idea!" Seaspray enthused. "We'll find Bumblebee, then go get Mirage. Don't worry Chip – Autobots are smart!" He started off eagerly, but found Chip's wheelchair jammed against his foot.

"You didn't really think you were going without _me_, did you?" Chip cried.

…..

_Meanwhile on the Nemesis…_

"Those fools are taking far too long!" Megatron paced, fists clenched as angry thoughts of the Constructicons traversed his processor. The leader had seen enough incompetency today to last a lifetime. "Can't you hurry them up? They'd better not be up to something!"

Starscream smiled, pleasantly. "I wouldn't count on it. Remember the power tower, Megatron? _Tch…tch…tch…_" he shook his head, "hardly the most reliable mechs. Now – far be it from me to question your judgement, but Soundwave did offer the valuable assistance of himself and the Insecticons. Had it been accepted, the traitors would probably be captured by now…"

"Silence!' the Leader roared. "None of my decisions are made without the ultimate tactical consideration of who is best for the job, Starscream!"

"If you insist. All the same, Soundwave is rather - _upset."_

Upset! Not only were his minions inept, they were becoming soft! Megatron thought of how the Constructicons had been all 'touchy feely' before they left. He shuddered. They needed toughening up, the whole outfit. Yes, that was what they needed.

Megatron saw that a smirk now covered the Seeker's face. The kind of smirk Megatron knew only too well: Starscream knew something.

"Well?" the leader bawled. "What?"

Starscream looked at him almost shyly. "I didn't like to say anything Megatron," he said. "Because I know how difficult it has been for you today, and how annoyed you get if you are overburdened by things that turn out not really to be important..."

"I am not one of those wimps out there!" Megatron roared. He rounded on the Seeker. "Now I'm only going to ask you once. _What is the matter?"_

Starscream swallowed, hard. That made Megatron feel a little better. At least he could still instil some semblance of terror within the impudent fool. "We have – a situation," Starscream said. "Code red – on the mainland. The Autobots are assembling on the beach. And they look – fired up."

He clicked a switch on the console. An image appeared, of familiar grounders transforming and weapons being brandished. "I have it on good authority – because I have a splendid espionage system Megatron – that they are going to attack our base."

Megatron peered at the screen. He bristled at the sight. But it wasn't that the Autobots were about to attack the Nemesis that made him boil inside, or that Starscream had once again delayed the transmission of information until the very last moment. Readying weapons and chattering excitedly, Prime's minions gleamed in the Earth sun. They just looked _too damned infuriatingly cheerful._

But then a smile spread slowly over the silver face. "They won't have much to smile about when I've finished with them!" Megatron crowed. Oh how things could change! Here was the chance to lick his troops back into shape _and _to leave his brother in absolutely no doubt that the Decepticons were still going to conquer the universe. He noted with satisfaction that Prime was nowhere to be seen.

"Excellent Starscream!" he gloated. "Prepare the troops for battle. All of them - especially Devastator! We shall blast them into oblivion and then I shall lead the attack that shall destroy Optimus Prime once and for all."

"Um – Megatron – aren't you forgetting something?" Starscream raised an optic ridge. "The Constructicons are – busy. They're bringing in the traitors."

_Oh yes._ That. Why whenever the chance to decimate the Autobots became a real possibility did something always have to frag things up? Well Starscream could make himself useful.

"You and your trine will go and find the Constructicons!" Megatron snapped. "You will tell them they are required immediately, and then you will take over their duties._ And_ you will detain the traitors until I return." He smiled. "Thrust and his trine will accompany me on this victory – along with Soundwave and the Insecticons. It is time they had some _real_ Decepticon action to occupy their attention!"

He did not wait to answer the Seeker's howl of protest, but strode away. He would organize Decepticon army himself.

…

_Meanwhile at Scavenger's playground..._

It was hopeless. Every time Rumble went to activate his thrusters, a flurry of the fine sand lining the base of the pit clogged the intakes, making it impossible for them to function. "Well now whadda we do?" he yelled. "Stoopid Autobozo! You led me into this mess. Now what?"

Mirage hid his annoyance – and the fact that he now didn't know _now what._ He just hoped Seaspray had finished doing whatever had made him pant so hard into the com (a subject Mirage still didn't really wish to think of) and was now on his way. He glanced up to where six green forms could be seen through the murky water, poised on the rim of the chasm. At least they appeared equally uncertain as to what to do next.

"We're doomed!" Rumble yelled, throwing his hands up. A passing shoal of tiny fish scattered in fluorescent flecks and bubbles. "We're washed up. Finished! Why don't we just give up now?"

"Sounders is gonna hate me," he wailed. "I'll be cast out. Shunned. Disgraced. An _ex_ Decepticon!"

Mirage decided that, given the tendency towards melodrama he'd seen from Bumblebee back at the base, Rumble and the yellow minibot were going to get on just fine. He thought it best not to mention that topic now, however; there was enough despair already. "Have you finished?" he said.

"No!" Rumble shouted. "You see them up there?" He gestured to the Constructicons. "You don't know _nothin'!_ You wait till they get hold of us. You wait till Hook gets us on his operating table." He scowled. "You have _no fraggin idea_ what happens on that thing…"

"Oh indeed I do," Mirage raised an optic ridge. "I have had occasion to be on it – only once, but it could have been worse. Hook really is a very good surgeon."

_And that's not all._ Mirage thought, remembering skilled green fingers, titillating examinations and some _very _nice medicine - though it was nothing like as exciting as being ravaged by the Insecticons and certainly not enough to let himself be captured now.

He devoted his energy instead to trying to contact Seaspray again. To his great relief, a crackly voice reassured him that the seagoer and his - consort - were not too far off. But there was more. _Bumblebee_ seemed to be with them - and worse, some humans. Slag! Didn't Seaspray know the problems with them functioning underwater? Had lust completely destroyed his logic circuits?

_Now what?_ The Alphamech despaired. A battle with Constructicons, lovesick submarines, drowning humans, a newly popped bot and his first? Mirage shuddered. This was definitely his last marine mission.

"Maybe I should_ enlighten_ you about that day I fragged up at that factory." Rumble was grumbling. "Afterwards, that lot up there strung me up with my feet stickin' in the air. And then they….."

"Rumble if you would just be quiet, I'm trying to concentrate." Mirage needed to think.

"What help?" the cassette sneered. "This has all been a waste of time!"

Mirage decided that forewarned was at least forearmed; besides which, some positive incentive may not go astray. "If you must know, I spoke to – your beloved," he said smoothly. "Assistance has been summoned and Bumblebee himself will soon be here. Now - you really don't want him to see you a hysterical wreck, do you?"

Instantly, the cassette stopped his ranting. His mouth fell open as his optics widened in wonder "Really?" his face took on an entranced, dreamy look. "Wow…"

And then, the scowl returned. "You're puttin' me on!" he yelled. "You just don't wanna face how bad its gonna be in about three breems from now!"

Mirage folded his arms. "Noop!" he said. "I can assure you I'm telling the truth, Rumble."

The cassette's expression went gooey again. "Bumblebee's comin' to save me? Why I don't…I can't…I – oh WOW!" But the change didn't last.

"I look like scrap!" Rumble yelled. "An' how am I s'pose to impress him stuck in a pit with a load of Constructijerks gawping at me?"

…..

The Constructicons stared down at the two mechs in the pit, who had looked worried, but now looked much less anxious than they should have.

"So – whadda we do now?" Bonecrusher growled. "Its obvious once we get down there our thrusters are gonna be useless. We ain't never gonna get back up again."

"And we can't form D-D-Devastator, its too n-n-narrow, he'll get s-s-stuck ," added Mixmaster.

"Well if someone had remembered to put our thrusters on 'marine function' we_ could_ have used them," Scavenger whined.

"And if you hadn't dug such a stoopid shaped hole…"

"Enough!" snapped Scrapper. "I'm thinking." He was - but without much luck. If only this were Grapple and Hoist. Mirage was so much trickier.

Scrapper recalled they had caught him, once. He'd been damaged in a fight and Hook, on Megatron's orders, had fixed him. The Alphamech had been really quite charming – he'd joined them in partaking of a Mixmaster brew. Scrapper had seen no wrong. It would soften him up for questioning…

Except that the Constructicons had ended up unconscious, and Mirage had escaped. Scrapper had sure had some fast talking to do that time. It made him very nervous now.

"That one never was the easiest Autobot to get your hands on!" Bonecrusher growled.

"Speak for yourself!" Hook said smugly.

"Well I wish we could just get on with it, "Long Haul groaned. "All this hangin' around. And no doubt _I'm_ gonna be the one that carts them back to base." Scavenger gave him a quick hug. "I can help you!" he said.

"Will you be _quiet!"_ Scrapper's crisp voice cut through. "Now pull yourselves together, Constructicons! We need to decide how to detain both subjects. It's not as if this is Grapple. We can – _manhandle_ Mirage if necessary. A pleasant shudder went through the others.

"And Rumble?" Bonecrusher growled. Scrapper frowned. The little piece was a pain in the aft. Primus only knew he what he was up to here – this could even be a set up. One thing was for sure though - any manhandling of _him_ and things could get extraordinarily difficult.

"I know, you could hang your cranehook down there an' grab them," Scavenger said. "Somebody could go down there…"

"You're volunteering?" Hook said with a glint in his optic.

But just then Soundwave's voice boomed down the comm. "Level of information – _poor_. Delay – _unacceptable_. Constructicon capture and communication skills – _inferior_. Seekers assuming control of operation."

Angry protests broke out as the Constructicons voiced their indignation. Nevertheless, Scrapper had never felt more relieved. He looked up happily to see lights glimmering in the distance, just as Starscream's shrill voice cut in "Constructicons – you are to hold position until I arrive. Then - and not until then - you will proceed to the south beach and form Devastator…"

Scrapper looked back at the lights, closer now. Something didn't seem right. "Say - but you're here already…"

"What? I've only just left! I repeat, you are to HOLD POSITION…"

But the others had activated their telescopic vision and were staring into the murky water. "What in the name of Primus is that?" Bonecrusher muttered.

Scrapper looked. He froze. The approaching craft were not Seekers at all. Instead they looked like – _two giant Sharkticons?_

Scavenger began to shake. "I told you," he squeaked. "Escapees from Quintessa. Nobody believed me. There's all sortsa things down here. Why'd you think I wanted them cameras!"

The lights were closer, and now great jaws grinned in streamline forms. Orders be darned, Scrapper wasn't hanging around. "Run for it!" he yelled.

"Hook caught his arm. "But what about Starscream?" he cried. With the previous conversation, pleasant memories had surfaced. The medic would have confessed now to being rather disappointed at not getting making better acquaintance with the Alphamech.

The Sharkticons were getting closer. "You really wanna take your chances with that?" Scrapper yelled. "There won't _be_ any prisoners in a few clicks!"

He had a point. Hook joined the other Constructicons and they all took off into the gloom.

…

_Meanwhile very close by… _

Starry eyed, Spike gazed through the portal as Seaspray and Alana's novel alt forms cut through the deep waters. "You know, my Dad used to bring me out on a boat in this bay as a kid," he said. "And I used to look into the water, and wonder what was down there. But I never ever thought one day I'd find out from the inside of a giant robot fish."

Seaspray chuckled, his marine programming sweeping the sharkticon form as smoothly through the dark green water as if it were a normal submarine. "Can't say I ever thought I'd be takin' human passengers _dressed up_ as a giant fish," he said. "But then…" his voice went mushy, "I never thought I'd fall for someone from an alien undersea race who had such imagination."

He gave a little wiggle. The other craft drew alongside Seaspray and nudged it, throwing Spike and Chip to one side in their seats. "The well of transformation has infinite possibilities," Alana said. "My father will be most pleased with this at the possibilities for protection of our race, although …" she snickered. "I rather like you as one of us too Seaspray."

They took up a kind of sea dance, swerving form side to side as they dived deeper and cut through the gloom. Spike clutched at the side of his seat, loving the ride, but Chip's face had turned a decided shade of green. "Never did develop a scientific means to get sea-legs," he groaned. He truly wished now that he hadn't insisted on coming.

But Spike was too entranced – and too happy for words. Bumblebee, now a passenger in Alana, was alive. And they were on a mission to rescue Mirage! Hell, when it came to _stuff Autobots let humans do_ this was cool! It was almost as good as that trip to Cybertron and the acid rain adventure.

And Carly fancied him. Could the day _get_ any better?

/Hey look – what's that?/ The two submarines slowed at Alana's question, and Spike saw large shapes looming up in the water, some resembling the hulls of ships. From their midst, six green forms emerged and moved quickly away.

"Say guys – isn't that the Constructicons?" Spike asked.

"It works!" Seaspray exclaimed. /Reckon we turned out good n'scary lookin' after all!/ and he gave another wide wiggling swerve.

Chip, glad that it was some time since they'd eaten and that he was at least spared the indignity of messing up Seaspray's upholstery, thanked heaven. At least they'd reached a destination. He wondered how Bumblebee was faring. The minibot had been deathly quiet since they picked him up. He doubted Bee was seasick. It must be disappointment at not being with Rumble.

Yes, poor Bee. He, Chip, must keep his wits about him. Once they'd done whatever it was they had to do now, Chip would need to sort out the best logistical surroundings for the pair to meet. The interests of peace and science demanded it.

….

Alone in Alana's comfortable decked out interior, Bee_ had_ been feeling sick – and it wasn't because of the movements. For not only had he not _dared_ tell Seaspray who else was with Mirage (the mech was such a staunch Autobot, even if he did canoodle with mer-folk) a wealth of doubts now stormed through his processor.

What if Teletraan was wrong? Spike was right – the computer had been hacked a few times – Ninja robots, Torque, not to mention that _Grimseek_. What if instead of embracing him, Rumble attacked him. What if he took to him with his piledrivers?

Worse still, what if this 'first' wasn't even Rumble?

Mirage had just said 'a Decepticon.' Bumblebee hadn't spoken to him again. Or Spike, or Chip. The dive from the cliff had not been a good one - his com had died when he'd _splatted _against the water. It was lucky Seaspray had found him.

Bee had despaired. The 'Decepticon' could be anyone! Terrible possibilities had risen, he'd almost seen triple changers and insecticons looming in the gloom outside. Oh why had he been so unkind to his fellow minibot? And why hadn't he given _just one_ of the other Autobots a chance? _Any_ of them.

They'd all be shaking their heads, calling him a fool when they pulled his pulverized corpse off the ocean floor. _Such a waste,_ Gears would say. _If only he'd given ME a chance…_

Then Alana had started swaying from side to side. The effect had brought Bumblebee to his senses. Yes – what was he thinking? Mirage knew what he was doing. It had to be somebody suitable - this was _Mirage _for pits sake. Bee should be – excited.

But as they headed now into a strange forest of what looked like shipwrecks, the minibot's innerds turned to jelly again. What if this was a trap? What if Mirage was being held prisoner? The_ humans_ were involved for pits sake - his _friends_. What would Prime say? He'd be sure to tell Bumblebee they should have been taken right back - and that anyway, this was all his fault...

/Relax,/ Alana was saying, her voice soothing. Bumblebee thought fleetingly that he could see what Seaspray saw in her, and that the others oughtn't to have made fun of her or the Well of Transformation. /We're here – these are the coordinates … now where in the world are they…ah, what's _that…?/_

Hardly daring to look, Bumblebee peered out. He saw Seaspray sweep ahead, between a tangle of giant ocean junk. Large sea creatures coasted here and there. /Alana – down there…/the other's voice came through.

They were over some kind of deep pit. Bumblebee looked – and froze. Just for an instant, he'd seen a mech – and it was definitely Mirage. Beside him had been a second mech. And even though it was really hard to see, and probably visual ID in these circumstances was riciculous, he'd known exactly who it was. Yes, it really was - _oh by Primus, it really was..._

Bumblebee's sensors nearly shorted out. "Oh Sigma …" he wailed. "It IS Rumble. What if he doesn't even like me?"

TBC


End file.
